It's The Little Things
by katstales
Summary: Regressed to childhood while investigating an offworld complex and returned to Atlantis with no memories of their adult selves, the team must work together to cope with their current situation and find a way to restore themselves before it's too late.
1. Chapter 1

Notes: This was written for Linzi as part of the 2nd Annual Ficathon on Shep's Atlantis LJ community. The story is complete, but will be posted at the rate of a chapter a day over the next week due to length and time constraints. As always, I don't own SGA nor am I making any money off this--if I did or I were, we would **SO** be having a Season 6!!!!

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Richard Woolsey leaned back in his chair, stretching after a long session at the computer. He had finally finished his report to the IOA, silently congratulating himself for his efforts at justifying Colonel Sheppard's team's latest...escapade...without compromising their future as a team or his own values.

His good mood evaporated instantly at the sound of the gate activating. Knowing that no teams were due to return or report in, worry replaced pride as he hurried out to the dialing station. "What have we got?"

"Unscheduled contact, sir. No teams are scheduled to return or check in for another half-hour yet. I'm not getting an IDC...no, wait. It's Major Lorne's IDC."

Woolsey frowned. "He's with Colonel Sheppard's team on PMC-908. They aren't due back for another two days yet."

Chuck nodded, though it was obvious that Woolsey was talking more to himself than to Chuck. "Yes, sir." Before he could say more, his hand went to his ear. "I'm getting an audio signal. Shall I put it on speaker?"

Leaning forward over the console to hear better, Woolsey nodded. Chuck pressed a button and suddenly Lorne's voice erupted from the console's speaker. "...need...medical team...standing by. I repeat...situation here. Please ...medical team...standing by."

"Just a moment, Major. Your transmission is breaking up; please try again. What is the nature of the emergency? Where is Colonel Sheppard?" An unpleasant feeling took root in the pit of Richard's stomach. Somehow he just knew this team was in serious trouble. Again.

"He's right here...rest of...team...not hurt, but..." There was a slight pause as the signal again faded, but before he could ask again for clarification, the Major continued. "...Sheppard's team...exploring the ruins as planned...not entirely sure...bright light...not sure you'd believe...best you see..."

Woolsey's frown deepened, partly out of concern for his people and partly due to confusion over what the situation actually was. "Major, your signal is breaking up--please say again what your situation is--what's happened to Colonel Sheppard and his team? What is the nature of the medical emergency?"

"...incident caused...electromagnetic field...interfering with communications...boosted signal as much...no way to...clearer. No danger to Atlantis...my team unaffected...only the colonel's team...regression."

The frown deepened as Richard tried to make some sense of the situation. "Is there any way to boost the signal or clear up the audio from our end?" he asked, looking at Chuck.

"No, sir, I've already done everything I can. I'm afraid this is as good as it's going to get."

Not at all pleased with the answer, he again activated the mike. "Major, we are still unclear as to the nature of your emergency. Are you certain there is no possibility of contamination to the city from this...this situation of yours."

Lorne's answer was swift and sure. "Yes, sir...no residual radiation...not reading any...potentially harmful substances or gasses...didn't affect...only Colonel Sheppard's team."

Still, Richard hesitated. Dare he let them return without knowing what the problem was? Lorne had seemed quite certain that there was no danger. And he had to trust his people or his tenure here was going to end in tragic failure sooner rather than later. His decision made, he at last turned to Chuck. "I want a hazmat team to the gate room, just in case. Also, alert Doctor Keller that there's a medical emergency of unknown origin coming in." He then reactivated the mike to speak with Lorne. "All right, Major. Since there are no physical injuries, can you give us ten minutes to get everything ready?"

Again, there was a slight hesitation in the major's answer. "Yes, sir...can do..."

Before Richard could respond, there was a loud squeal from the console, which to his embarrassment caused him to jump back a step. Lorne's voice came over the speaker, but it was immediately apparent that he wasn't talking to anyone on Atlantis. "Hey! I told..not touch anything...knock it off..." he warned.

Woolsey's jaw dropped at the next sound from the speakers. He would have sworn it was children laughing. Looking to Chuck, he demanded answers. "Am I correct in assuming that earlier noise was not on our end?"

"Yes, sir."

His confusion growing, he leaned forward and activated the mike. "Major Lorne, what's going on there? Who's that with you? Your previous reports confirmed that the planet was uninhabited. Has that changed and will you be bringing along any unexpected...guests?"

Lorne's voice was strained when he finally answered. "No, sir...only my...Colonel Sheppard's. Ow! Hey...told you...cut that out!" There was a slight pause before Lorne again spoke, obviously horrified. "Um, not you, sir...was, well...talking to Ronon. Sir."

Frustrated at the inability to communicate clearly, Richard gave up trying to understand what was going on with the two offworld teams. "Very well, Major. And we're prepared for you now, so you can step through as soon as you're ready."

"Thank you, sir...on...way."

Moments later, the wormhole shimmered and two by two, eight figures stepped through into the gate room. Woolsey stared at the scene below, his mouth open in shock. Likewise, the hazmat team seemed to be frozen in place, not certain what to make of the situation either as the returnees exited the gate.

Lorne had stepped through first, holding a young boy tightly by the arm. The youngster had a head of disconcertingly familiar unruly dark hair and wore a hugely baggy black t-shirt with equally huge BDU trousers that had been cut off at the bottom of each leg and cinched with a length of rope at the waist. Angry and sullen, the youngster glared up at his escort as they moved away from the active stargate. Though Richard knew little about children, he guessed the gangly boy might be in his early teens at most.

Stevens, the Major's second in command, came through next, holding the hand of a young girl. Long brown hair fell gracefully about her shoulders and fine features held the promise of great beauty in the coming years. She was fairly swimming in an adult field jacket and also appeared to be wearing cut-off BDUs. Calm and serene, she nonetheless looked around as they moved up to meet Lorne and his charge. Woolsey thought she was younger than the boy, but he had the feeling that she had not missed a single detail during her brief inspection of her surroundings.

Next came Jennings, who was half dragging, half carrying another young boy. This youngster was sobbing loudly and trying his best to curl up into a ball as he screamed at the soldier. "Nonono! You can't make me! I won't do it! I won't!" The youngster wore the same baggy adult t-shirt and cut-off BDUs as the first boy, but all Richard could see of his head was a mop of reddish-brown hair. He appeared to be even younger than the first two, but Woolsey wouldn't have sworn to that with such a poor view.

Bringing up the rear, Langly stepped through with his charge. The burly Marine had a pained look on his face as he mimicked his commanding officer's hold on a third young boy's arm, marching the lad up to join the rest of the group. This boy was shorter than the others, but he paused to take in every detail of his new surroundings in a way that none of the others had--almost as if he were casing the joint. Langly prodded him forward, only to be answered with a mischievous smirk. This youngster, sporting a head full of dreadlocks that had yet to reach his shoulders, also wore a baggy adult field jacket. Instead of the cut-off utilities, however, he wore a pair of decidedly unmilitary boxers that were covered with various images of Bart Simpson's head. Despite having to hold them in place by bunching up the excess fabric in his hand, the boy moved with an eerily familiar cat-like grace. Richard thought he might be the youngest of the four, but he wouldn't have placed any money on it had he been the betting kind.

When he finally recovered his senses, Woolsey quickly made his way down the stairs. "Major Lorne, where...what...please explain!"

With an apologetic look, Lorne shrugged. "I'll try, sir, but I'm not entirely certain I know myself. Colonel Sheppard and his team were inside the structure when we lost contact. There was a bright light and..."

Before the major could explain further, the boy next to him suddenly yanked his arm free. "Now!" he yelled, shoving Lorne into the hazmat-suited figure next to him. The move set off a chain reaction that had bodies toppling over in a domino-like effect. The boy took immediate advantage and sprinted for the nearest door.

Two of the three other children reacted instantly, also shoving their guardians into the tangle of bodies and running for the nearest exit. "Stop!" demanded Woolsey. "You children come back here right now! It's not safe for you here without an adult." When it quickly became apparent that the youngsters were not going to listen to him, he tried enlisting help. "Someone stop them! Don't let them get away!" Amid the chaos of tangled humanity on the floor, no one was capable of reaching them.

The dark-haired boy, obviously the leader of the little pack, paused to see that the third boy wasn't following. "Come on!" he called to him. "We're running out of time!"

"I can't! He might break my arm and that will hurt!" The boy continued to struggle, but Jennings managed to hold onto him. He was still crying, his sobs growing louder by the moment even as the strength of his efforts began to wane.

Disgusted, the young leader ran back and pulled an expert fake-out on Jennings, shoving him hard and sending him again sprawling atop the pile of bodies on the floor. He smiled smugly as he watched the progress the group had made in untangling themselves instantly become undone. Obviously pleased with his handiwork, he grabbed the younger boy by the arm and yanked him along as he sprinted toward the others. In a flash, the little quartet disappeared from sight.

Woolsey was furious. "Will someone please tell me what the devil is going on here? Major, who are those children and where did they come from? And where is Colonel Sheppard and his team?"

Lorne finally disentangled himself from the hazmat team and answered as he slowly jogged backwards toward the hallway down which the kids had disappeared. "Sir, those kids *are* Colonel Sheppard and his team. I'll explain the rest once we find them." Without waiting for Woolsey's okay, he turned and sprinted after them.

As much as his mind wanted to deny it, Richard knew it was true. Left to stand and stare after him, the first thing to come out of his mouth was an "Oh." The rest of Lorne's team had at last found their feet and were helping the hazmat team regain their footing as well. With no one else to lash out at, Woolsey quickly took his frustration out on them. "Well? What are you waiting for? Go find those...go help the major find Colonel Sheppard and his team! And you," he said, pointing to the hazmat team. "Get out of those suits and help them. And someone tell Doctor Keller to be expecting some visitors once they're found."

Richard slowly ascended the big staircase and shuffled back to his office, one thought on his mind. How the heck was he going to explain this one to the IOA???

~A~

"They've split up--two of them are headed for the East Pier. The other two seem to be headed for the lower levels."

"Copy that. You and Jennings take the two headed for the lower levels. I don't care how you do it, but do NOT allow them to reach those lower levels. I repeat, DO NOT let them get into the lower levels. Most of the sensors are still offline down there, so if they get past us we'll never find them. Langly and I will attempt to intercept the two headed for the East Pier. Lorne out." The weary officer limped down the hallway toward the pier, on the lookout for further traps set by the pint-sized team. It had been over four hours since the youngsters had made their getaway from the gate room and they were no closer to apprehending them now than they had been while sprawled on the floor among the hazmat team.

Lorne shook his head in disgust. Sheppard's team may have been de-aged, but even in pint-sized form they were a powerful force to be reckoned with--and Lorne's team certainly had the bruises to prove it. So far they'd encountered everything from oil-slicks on floors to booby traps above, below, and inside of doors. His personal favorite had been the transporter sabotage. Somehow, McKay had hacked into the system and re-routed all the destinations. He and Langly had stepped out expecting to find themselves near the physics lab, but instead found themselves on the North Pier. It had taken them an hour to get back and rejoin the search. To make matters worse, Radek was still working to straighten out the mess and having the transporters offline indefinitely was certainly not helping them in their efforts to apprehend the tiny terrors.

"Ooof!" Lorne doubled over in the middle of the hallway, his face twisted into a grimace. He looked over at Langly, one eye still closed. "Okay, that's a new one."

"Yeah," agreed Langly, staring down at the metal pipe that had just connected with the major's midsection. His eyes tracked the path it had taken when it swung down from a railing above. "They may be smaller, but they're still good. Damn good."

"Trust me, I noticed that." The wry reply came as major rubbed his stomach, trying to ease the sting of his newest bruise. Having finally caught his breath, he waved his subordinate on. "Come on. If we don't have them in custody inside the next thirty minutes, I don't care what Keller says, we're breaking out the stunners."

The two men's footsteps echoed down the hallway as they cautiously headed for the East Pier. Several long moments passed in silence before two small dark heads poked out of their hiding place to make certain they had left. "They gone?" asked the shorter one.

"Yeah," answered his companion. "Told ya they'd fall for it."

Ignoring the jibe, Ronon pointed down the opposite end of the hall where Lorne and his subordinate had disappeared. "We should go find the others now."

"Not yet. We need a few more surprises for the grown-ups first. Grab that rope and bring the pipe--I know the perfect place we can use it next." John finished zipping the overstuffed backpack and dragged it along the floor behind them; an earlier raid on the mess hall had left it far too heavy for either of the small boys to carry it as intended.

"Okay. That was a good idea you had to throw them off our trail."

John shrugged. "Thanks. You've had a lot of good ideas for the booby traps, too."

As the two of them set off, Ronon turned to his partner in crime. "How come the grown-ups call you Colonel instead of John? They call the rest of us by our names, but not you."

"How should I know? They're grown-ups--it's not like they make any sense most of the time, you know."

"Yeah. I guess."

John pointed to a nearby stairwell. "Let's set up the pipe over there. That leads down to the hallway to the control tower."

"Okay. Then maybe we can go find the others--I'm hungry."

"Yeah, yeah, we'll find the others and eat soon. Now let's do this."

The trap was set in record time and the two set off. A short time later, John stopped suddenly in the middle of the hallway. "This is a good spot for oiling the floor. You still got some left?" Waiting for his buddy to find the oil, he surveyed the surrounding area, looking for additional opportunities.

Ronon, however, was not in the mood to be put off any longer and stubbornly planted himself in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed and clearly not intending to budge--or look for the requested oil.

"Okay, fine! We'll do this one last thing and then go find the others. McKay's probably scarfed down all those powerbars we left with them already anyway." Dragging his own heavy pack out of the way, he turned to help Ronon. "Now come on; we need to get this stuff done."

Mollified at finally having his unspoken request addressed, Ronon reached for the pack and quickly got down to business.

~A~

"Should we not be moving on to another station now?" Teyla leaned against the doorframe, looking nervously down the corridor in each direction while still attempting to remain out of sight.

"I already told you, I made sure the sensors can't locate us so we're perfectly safe right where we are. And besides, that John kid told us to wait here." Rodney didn't even look up, absorbed in the display on the computer in front of him.

"Yes, so you have said. But it has been some time since the others left; it is not good to stay in one place for too long a time. The longer we stay, the more likely it is that someone will find us."

"I'm telling you, keeping ahead of these bozos is, well, child's play. Makes you wonder who they've got running this place." Rodney abruptly abandoned his calculations, jumping to his feet as he turned to face her. His eyes were wide with fear, his beloved computer instantly forgotten. "W-w-wait a minute! You-you think those big red scary...things might find us here?" His eyes frantically searched the room for a hiding place.

"I do not know." She turned back to her surveillance of the hallway, almost as if the mere mention of them might bring the odd-looking man-like creatures to their current hiding place. "Unlike yourself, I am not a genius and do not pretend to have all of the answers."

"I'm not pretending! I AM a genius and when it comes to math or science, I DO have all the answers," he said, pouting. "Just not so much with the fighting and brave-hero-saving-the-day kinda stuff."

Teyla couldn't help but smile, though she was careful to keep her face turned so that he couldn't see it. "Then I suppose that shall be my task."

"You?" Rodney snorted in disbelief. "You're a GIRL. Everyone knows that girls can't fight monsters. Or bad guys. No, we'll have to wait for that John kid--and pray he shows up in time."

Her mood instantly changed. When she turned to face him, her eyes were cold and hard. "Perhaps you would like a demonstration?"

His mouth fell open and he stumbled backward until he hit the wall. "No, um, no. That's okay. I-I believe you. I guess your parents never got the memo or something, that's all."

Her features softened somewhat, a look of confusion taking hold. At last, she shook her head and returned to her watch. "You are a very strange boy, Rodney McKay."

~A~

Woolsey marched into the conference room and took his seat. He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table in front of him as he looked pointedly at each person seated around the large table. "All right, people, this has gone on long enough. Will someone please explain to me why we are having so much difficulty locating and retrieving four ten-year-old children?"

After a quick glance at the others for support, Lorne cleared his throat. "Sir, while it's true that they appear to be children and have no memory of their grown-up selves, they seem to have retained all of the abilities of their adult selves. They've set up booby traps and snares all over the place. The colonel and Dr. McKay know this city better than anyone. Add in their expertise, as well as Ronon's and Teyla's and it's not surprising we're experiencing a lot of setbacks."

"I don't understand. If they've lost their adult memories, how are they able to remember what to do--and how to do it--in a situation that requires their adult knowledge?"

"I believe I have an explanation." Radek Zelenka pushed up his glasses and opened the folder in front of him. "Dr. Callavetti has been able to translate a great deal of the information that Major Lorne's team brought back from the planet. It would appear that the ruins are that of an Ancient lab, one where the focus was on ways to more quickly achieve ascension. It is my belief that this was one of their earliest attempts, both because of the dialect used and also because of the different projects described in the database that Captain Stevens downloaded from the main control room of the structure in question. The one where Colonel Sheppard's team was affected," he clarified.

A signal from Lorne to the scientist prompted Radek to move quickly to the heart of the matter. "From almost the beginning, it appears that the Ancients were convinced that the need to let go of their earthly burdens was the key to success. This lab was built to explore various ways to help achieve that goal. The purpose of the device triggered by the colonel's team was to help the user regress to a more simple, uncomplicated period in their life. The intention was for only the mental aspects of the user to be affected, but obviously they were completely unsuccessful. In fact, the device ultimately altered both the physical appearance and memory centers of the brain, yet it appears to leave all instinctual aspects of the user intact. They had not yet found a way to correct this when the lab was abandoned."

"I see." Woolsey quickly turned to the medical expert present. "Dr. Keller, I realize you have not yet been able to examine them, but I would like to hear your thoughts on this as well."

Jennifer shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "Oh. Well, you understand that I can only speculate on what the effect of this might be on them. The possibilities range anywhere from unstable DNA to organ failure to any number of complications involving the brain, not the least of which is a harmful alteration of brain chemistry. Or they could be perfectly normal in every way, aside from the fact that they have regressed to the approximate age of ten. There's really no way for me to tell what's happening to them without an exam or tests."

Before Woolsey could speak up, Lorne intervened. "Sir, it would help matters greatly if we could just stun them. I can guarantee we'd have them apprehended within the hour."

"No, you can't do that! The effect could be disastrous--fatal even. If their DNA is unstable, or if they're in the early stages of organ failure...we could lose them for good." Keller was adamant.

"Well, Major, I'm afraid that I'm going to have to defer to Dr. Keller under the circumstances. Permission to use stunners denied. Let's get back out there and find them, people. We need to see this situation resolved--for their sakes as well as our own. Dismissed." Without waiting for a response, he gathered his paperwork and turned to leave.

To his surprise, when the doors opened he found a familiar form pacing the floor. "Doctor Beckett. I know it's been several weeks since your return and I'm sorry I haven't been by to ask how you've settled back in. I've been a little busy, and now we're in the middle of...well, I suppose you've already heard about that. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Aye, that ye can. Ye can call off this so-called search and let me talk to them. Over the city-wide, I mean."

"Excuse me?" Richard couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Look, I know that you're friends of theirs, but you cannot just come in here and start making ridiculous demands. Surely you don't expect us to call off the search--we need to find them and get them medical attention as soon as possible."

"But it's not a search--it's a bloody manhunt! These people are your friends, or at the very least, your colleagues. Put yourself in their place. How would you feel if ye suddenly found yourself in a strange place with no memory of anyone around ye. Then you're taken through a strange puddle of water and find yourself on the wildest of rollercoaster rides, the likes of which is beyond anything ye could ever imagine. And then you're spit out into yet another strange place with even more strangers waiting for ye. Is it any wonder they ran? Have ye given even the least thought to what those hazmat suits must have looked like to a child? The poor things must have been scared half to death."

On a roll, Carson didn't stop there. "And you!" He looked around Woolsey, pointing directly at Lorne. "What in bloody Hell were ye thinking, man? Bringing 'em back like that without making certain that everyone knew what to expect. And now you're conducting this so-called search more like a bloody search and destroy mission! They're not the bloody enemy, son. Is it any wonder they're trying so hard not to be found? Can ye really blame them?"

"Well I guess when you put it that way," said Lorne, looking distinctly sheepish. "I guess we could have handled things a little better--but in my defense, I did try to apprise everyone here of the situation. I can't help that the electromagnetic field was garbling the transmission. How was I supposed to know what information was getting through and what wasn't?"

Woolsey cleared his throat, re-establishing his authority. "Yes, well I think we can all agree that things might have been handled...differently, but the fact remains that we cannot allow them to remain at large unchaperoned. There's no telling what they might take it into their heads to do next, not to mention the issue of medical attention. Evaluations and assessments can wait until the situation has been resolved; right now locating them is the most important issue at hand."

"Well your search is obviously not working now, is it? It's been what, six, seven hours since they came back? It's time to try another way. Let me talk to them, see if I can persuade them to come to the infirmary on their own. They've got to be getting tired and hungry by now. If I can promise them that no one will try to stop them or follow them, they just might be willing to come in."

They waited while Woolsey considered his options. Before he could come to a decision, however, there was a knock at the door. "Excuse me, sir." Chuck hovered near the doors, his face grim. "We've just had a report from the armory. Colonel Sheppard and Ronon were just there and managed to escape with Ronon's blaster and a stunner. I thought you'd want to know right away."

"How long ago was this?"

"The report just came in, but the two of them managed to stun the sergeant on duty. He reported the incident as soon as he came to, but I'd say they've been gone for roughly half an hour. Maybe more."

"Very well. Keep me informed." The technician took the dismissal for what it was and headed back to his station. Woolsey pinched the bridge of his nose, factoring the latest developments into his decision.

When he lifted his head, he looked immediately to Keller. "You're certain that it's too dangerous to stun them?"

She didn't hesitate, nodding emphatically. "Yes, without question. There's just no way to tell what kind of damage it might cause without at least a preliminary examination, or better yet, running some scans and tests."

Nodding, he next turned to Carson. "I assume you agree with Doctor Keller?"

"Aye, it's far too risky."

Woolsey considered the matter for several more moments before finally issuing his decision. "Very well, Doctor. You have my permission to attempt to contact them. But if they have not turned up in the infirmary to be examined within a reasonable period of time, then I'm afraid we're going to have to consider...more drastic measures."

Though the Scot was obviously not happy about it, he nodded. "Very well. I'll see to it now, then; the sooner the better and all." Without waiting for a dismissal, he headed for the control room.

Within moments, Carson's voice echoed throughout the city. "John, this is Carson Beckett. I know ye probably don't remember me, but I promise ye that I am your friend. I've just finished speaking to Mr. Woolsey and he has agreed to call off the marines that have been searching for ye. Now, I know ye must be getting tired and hungry, so I would like to invite ye to come to see me in the infirmary. There will be hot food and a bed waiting for each of ye, and I promise ye'll not be separated. No one will interfere with ye in any way, I promise ye. Please, John. We only want to help."

Releasing the button for the mike as he stepped back, Carson gestured to Chuck that he was finished.

"Now what?" asked Woolsey, followed closely by the rest of the group from the briefing.

Beckett shrugged, a grave look on his face. "Now we wait, Mr. Woolsey. Now we wait."

~A~

John and Ronon ran down the hallway, having made their escape from the armory a short time before. The blaster was heavy, but Ronon insisted on carrying it himself. John had offered to take the heavier, larger weapon and leave his companion the stunner, but Ronon was having none of it. With no time to argue, John had no choice but to capitulate and allow him to have his way--for the time being.

Their progress had been slow, in part due to avoiding all the traps they'd set for the marines and in part because of Ronon having to practically drag his heavy weapon. John was about to suggest for the millionth time that they switch--just until they reached the relative safety of the lower levels, of course--when they heard a voice behind them. "Stop right there," called a somewhat familiar voice. "Drop the weapons on the floor and turn around, nice and slow."

The two boys exchanged a meaningful look as they slowly turned to face Sergeant Jennings. The man was wary, watching them intently for any sign of resistance. "Drop 'em," he repeated. "I'm not kidding around here."

John did as asked and dropped the stunner, also letting go of the heavy pack he'd been dragging. Slowly he raised his hands, his face the picture of defeat. Ronon was a step or two behind Sheppard and bent slightly, appearing to be placing the blaster on the floor as well. Jennings relaxed for a fraction of a second, reaching for his comm to report their capture. It was all the boys needed as, without a word, John dropped to his hands and knees. Before he even hit the floor, Ronon was using both hands to raise the blaster. Despite his small size, he didn't falter for even a second, expertly bringing it to rest on Sheppard's back and firing with his customary deadly accuracy.

"Oh crap!" Jennings had no time to take evasive action, cursing as the flash from the weapon lit up the immediate area. The words had barely left his lips when the blast hit, instantly sending him to the floor in an unconscious heap.

John jumped up, grinning from ear to ear. The blaster slid off his back as he offered his hand for a high-five. "Nice shot."

Ronon shrugged. "Thanks." He gestured with his chin to the unconscious marine. "Should we check him?"

"You got it set on stun, right?" John bent to pick up his own stunner.

"Yeah, why?"

"Then he should be fine. Eventually. Right now I think we should get out of here before someone else comes."

"Okay," agreed the Satedan. "Works for me."

The two carefully proceeded to the room where they had left Rodney and Teyla, avoiding several additional marines along the way. There were also a few close encounters, but the two youngsters had managed to lead their pursuers to some of their various traps, leaving them there struggling to escape. Exhausted, but still excited from the thrill of the chase, the two finally reached their pint-sized teammates.

"Hey, Teyla. Where's Rodney?" asked John, scanning the room for their missing member as he dragged his heavy pack to the center of the room.

"He is behind the tall station over there," she informed him, rolling her eyes.

Frowning, John called out to him. "Rodney, we're back. We've got sandwiches and juice and stuff to eat." Certain that the lure of real food would quickly draw the arrogant little guy out, he waited.

"I believe he finally fell asleep a short while ago." Teyla's tone clearly said that she had not enjoyed herself while they'd been gone.

"What? Why'd you let him do that? He's supposed to be keeping the sensors and stuff offline so they can't find us!" Irritated at the seeming failure of half of his team, John stormed over to the console.

"He claims that it will take them weeks to figure out what he's done and correct it," she offered. "Besides, he did not seem to be feeling very well."

John stopped short at that, turning back to face her in alarm. "Why? What's wrong with him?"

Teyla shrugged. "He did not say, but he was looking rather pale and his hands were shaking. I think he was simply exhausted."

"Did he eat those powerbars we left?"

She nodded. "Yes, he ate at regular intervals. He also explained with each bar his need to keep his blood sugar up so that he did not develop hypoglycemia. Several times," she added, again rolling her eyes.

Still uneasy, John bent down to shake the boy in question. "Hey, Rodney. Wake up, we brought food."

"Go 'way. 'M tired. Sleepin'," he mumbled.

"You can sleep after you have a ham sandwich and some juice. Now come on. Or do I have to make you?" John stood up, his arms crossed as he waited for Rodney to move.

"Said go..." McKay suddenly sat up, instantly awake. "There's ham?" he asked eagerly. "Real ham?"

John shook his head, jogging over to the pack and rummaging through it. Finally locating what he sought, he pulled out the sandwich and tossed it over to the pint-sized scientist. "See for yourself. I've got juice, too. Apple or grape?"

Rodney already had the plastic wrap off and was noisily chewing away. "Apple," he said, still chewing.

"Teyla, what about you?" he asked, tossing a carton of apple in McKay's direction.

"I suppose I shall have the grape."

"You sure? I also have orange," he offered. "And we have tuna, turkey, and peanut butter sandwiches."

Her face brightened. "In that case..."

"Hey!" Rodney interrupted. In his outraged panic, he almost forgot to swallow. "You didn't let that orange juice anywhere near my sandwich or juice did you? Because I'm telling you, one drop of that stuff and..."

"We know, we know," said John, cutting off his tirade. "You're mortally allergic to citrus. For your information, I put the orange juice in a separate pocket, even though it's in sealed cartons like all the other stuff. Okay?"

Only slightly mollified, Rodney returned to scarfing down his meal. "Well, okay. I guess. But you can't blame me; I'm not kidding--one drop of that stuff and I'll..."

"We know!" The thrill of the chase was rapidly passing and John wasn't in the mood to listen to yet another lecture on the effects of citrus on someone who was allergic, mortally or otherwise. "Just eat your food and go back to sleep already, will ya?"

After seeing that everyone else had something to eat and drink, he sat down and eagerly tore into his own turkey sandwich. Halfway through, a voice sounded overhead. "_John, this is Carson Beckett. I know ye probably don't remember me, but I promise ye that I am your friend. I've just finished speaking with Mr. Woolsey and he has agreed to call off the marines that have been searching for ye. Now, I know ye must be getting tired and hungry, so I would like to invite ye to come to see me in the infirmary. There will be hot food and a bed waiting for each of ye and I promise ye'll not be separated. No one will interfere with ye in any way, I promise ye. Please, John. We only want to help._"

Food and drink were promptly forgotten as silence descended upon the room. After several moments, Rodney offered his opinion. "I think we should listen to him and do what he says," he said quietly.

John considered his opinion, looking to both Teyla and Ronon for their input. Teyla shook her head, but said nothing. Ronon shrugged, tearing open his second sandwich and digging in. John shook his head. "No," he finally said. "We can't risk it."

"I think we should trust him. I don't know why, but I think he's telling the truth. I believe him when he says he's our friend," countered Rodney.

Again, John shook his head. "I don't know why either, but I agree that he's a friend. But I can't take the risk that he's telling the truth about the marines and stuff."

"He wouldn't lie to us!" Rodney was on his feet now, fists clenched in anger.

"He would if they made him," challenged Sheppard. His anger disappeared as quickly as it had come, his voice softening as he continued. "And you know it."

"John's right," said Ronon. Still munching away at his tuna sandwich, he conveyed no trace of hostility in his tone.

"I agree." Teyla was sympathetic, her eyes filled with regret.

Finding himself outnumbered, Rodney looked like he was about to cry at any moment. Angrily swiping at his eyes, he scooted over to again hide behind the console where he'd been sleeping. "Fine. But I still say we can trust him, even if I'm outnumbered." He sniffed loudly, but before anyone could reply he ended the discussion. "I'm tired and I'm going back to sleep now."

Intending to go talk to him further, John stood. Teyla called him back before he'd taken more than a few steps. "I believe it might be best to allow him to sleep for awhile," she urged. "He does seem very tired. Perhaps he will be more reasonable once he has rested."

After thinking it over, he shrugged and headed back over to his own unfinished meal. "You're probably right. Can't hurt anyway," he added, digging back into his abandoned turkey. By the time he'd finished, Ronon was already sacked out in a corner and John himself was beginning to feel rather sleepy. "You should take a nap for awhile, too," he told Teyla. "We're all pretty tired."

She nodded, looking pointedly back at him. "And you as well. You and Ronon were much busier than I, but I will rest if you will."

"I will, later. Someone needs to keep watch."

"Then I will watch first and you can take over when you awaken."

"But you..."

Her eyes blazed as she cut him off. "If you are about to say that I cannot because I am a girl, I strongly suggest that you reconsider."

John blanched. "I was gonna say that you had to watch the whole time Ronon and I were gone. And that you could probably use a break from it," he said defensively. "But if you insist, I'll be glad to let you go first."

Teyla smiled, though her expression made it clear she wasn't buying it for a moment. "Of course you were. Sleep now--and before you ask, yes, I promise to awaken you the moment anything happens."

Tiring rapidly, John nodded and curled up on the floor. "Okay," he mumbled. Within moments, he was fast asleep.

~A~

"Jennings! Where the hell have you been? Didn't you hear the order to report to the command center?" After his subordinate's failure to answer the summons or acknowledge his orders, Lorne had been ready to send someone after him.

"Sorry, sir. I'm pretty sure I was a little busy being unconscious at the time." As Jennings approached, the major could see that he was pale and having a difficult time walking a straight line. "They got away. I had 'em cornered down near the armory, but they got away."

"So I gathered. Why don't you tell me exactly what happened? Though I think I probably already have a pretty good idea," he added dryly.

"It was the damnedest thing you ever saw, sir. Oh, they've got a stunner and Ronon's blaster..." Upon seeing Lorne's lack of surprise, the soldier continued. "Though I'm guessing you already knew that. But I'm telling you, it was the craziest thing I've ever seen. I ordered them to halt and drop their weapons. Sheppard dropped his and raised his hands. Dex could hardly carry that big ol' blaster of his, so when he bent down I assumed that he needed both hands to lower it to the ground. Sheppard was standing in front of him, blocking my view. I reached for my radio to report in and that's when it happened." Jennings shook his head, as if he was having a difficult time believing it himself.

"What happened?" Lorne got a sinking feeling in his stomach, not entirely certain what to expect.

Jennings leaned heavily against the wall. "I never seen anything like it," he repeated. "Neither one of 'em said a word. Didn't make a sound--not so much as peep out of either of them. But all the sudden when I reached for my radio, Sheppard dives down, dropping onto his hands and knees. Dex was raising the blaster before Sheppard ever hit the floor. Like a pro, he hefts it onto Sheppard's back and takes aim. Then there was a flash and the lights went out. Shrunk or de-aged or whatever you want to call it, even with the damn gun being practically bigger than he is and too heavy for him to hold it, Dex is still damn impressive with that thing. Sir," he added hastily, as if he only then remembered who he was addressing.

Lorne shook his head, no doubt in his mind that the story was true. "So I hear. But right now, I want you to get yourself down to the infirmary and get checked out. You okay on your own or do I need to call for a med team?"

"I'm good, sir. Maybe a little slow, but I can make it." Moving away from the wall, Jennings paused and shook out his hands.

"Pins and needles?" asked Lorne.

"Yeah," agreed Jennings. "I think it's starting to wear off a little though."

Lorne lightly clapped him on the shoulder. "That's good to hear. Now go on, get yourself checked out. Once they've cleared you, I want you to go get some rest. It's been a long day."

"Yes, sir. And thank you." Grimacing, Jennings staggered off toward the medical wing, still shaking his tingling hands.

~A~

John's heart was racing. His surroundings were dark and dank and he couldn't tell if he was in a room or a hallway. His back was against the wall and he had nowhere to run as the monster approached. Its hair was snowy white, hanging in long stringy clumps that swayed as it staggered toward him. Its skin was pale, almost as white as its hair, and while its features were somewhat human in appearance, its rows of small pointy teeth and claw-like fingernails marked it as anything but. The creature extended its hand toward John and he knew instinctively that he had to get away--and fast. He tried to run, but before he could take even a step, vine-like tentacles sprouted from the wall to hold him firmly in place.

He screamed as it approached, knowing with certainty that if it reached him he was finished. Almost immediately, the vine-things wrapped themselves around his head, covering his mouth and leaving him mute. Time slowed to a crawl as the hand snaked toward him inch by agonizing inch. His eyes bulged with terror as the claws extended, eagerly reaching for him. He struggled to break away, knowing he needed to run as far and as fast as he could, but the tentacles were too strong and he was helpless to do anything save to watch as the hideous appendage drew ever nearer to his chest.

It seemed an eternity had passed by the time the monster's hand finally touched him, but there was no mistaking when contact was made. Pain blossomed, spreading like lightning throughout his body. He could feel the life being drained from him, years of his future existence flowing through his limbs and pooling in his chest before being sucked out through the creature's palm. His body jerked and spasmed, finally free of the tentacles, but he barely noticed through the all-encompassing pain. Likewise, he hardly felt the blood-curdling scream when it tore from his lips.

"John! John, please! You must wake up now," urged Teyla.

He opened his eyes to look at her, and to his amazement, he found himself suddenly back in Atlantis. Teyla's hand had replaced the monster's on his chest and he realized that she had been trying to awaken him. He went limp with relief, breathing heavily as he tried to shake off the remnants of the nightmare. "Sorry, musta been dreaming," he whispered hoarsely. His throat burned, raw from the scream that he now realized hadn't been simply part of the dream. He shuddered at the realism of the whole thing.

Ronon appeared next to Teyla, still lugging the blaster that was nearly as long as his entire leg. "You awake?"

Raising an eyebrow, John sat up straighter against the wall. He was still shaking all over as he tossed a barb at Ronon. "No, I just like sitting up and talking while I sleep."

Not appearing in the least offended, the little guy dragged himself and his weapon over and dropped down to sit on the floor next to John. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

Irritated at both his apparent physical weakness and his failure to get a rise out of his Satedan companion, John snapped at him. "Aren't you supposed to be asleep?"

Dex shrugged. "Was until you started screaming loud enough to wake the Ancestors."

John did a double take. "The who?"

"The Ancestors. You know, the people who fought the Wraith a way long time ago. They're like gods, almost." Ronon looked to Teyla for confirmation, receiving a nod in return.

"Oh yeah? Never heard of 'em." Feeling stronger, John looked around for the one missing member of their little group. "Hey, where's Rodney?"

"He has not yet awakened," answered Teyla. "He has also been dreaming a great deal, though how he was able to remain asleep through some of them, I do not know." She looked over to the corner he had claimed after their disagreement, a worried expression on her face.

That got John's attention in a big way and he scrambled to his feet, swaying slightly before recovering his balance. "Did you check on him?" he asked, heading over to see for himself.

"Of course. I chose not to awaken him because he had seemed so tired earlier."

John watched the slumbering youngster for a moment before attempting to wake him. He appeared to be breathing well enough, but there was something that was just...off. Grabbing Rodney's shoulder, he shook him. "Wake up, Rodney."

McKay didn't rouse at all, so John tried again. "Come on, Rodney, wake up and talk to me," he insisted.

Rodney whimpered, but didn't open his eyes. "'M cold. Go 'way, don' wanna talk."

Frowning, John placed his hand on Rodney's forehead. "Geez, you're burning up. I'll get you some juice and some tylenol."

"Don' wanna drink," whined McKay. "Leeme 'lone."

"Sorry, can't do that. You're sick--you have to drink some juice and take some tylenol."

Teyla grabbed another bottle of apple juice from the bag and took it over to the two boys, handing it off to John. "I am unfamiliar with this 'tylenol' you speak of, but if you tell me where I can find it I will gladly bring it to you."

"Thanks," he said, twisting the cap off. "The tylenol should be in the front pocket, the little one. You're looking for the small red and white packets that have the name on them. I'm pretty sure I grabbed some."

He carefully placed his hand under Rodney's head and lifted, bringing the juice to the other boy's lips. "Here, drink this while Teyla gets the pills."

Whimpering in protest, Rodney nonetheless did as instructed and swallowed. He'd barely finished when Teyla returned, packet of tylenol in hand. "Is this what you need?"

"Yeah, thanks." John set the bottle of juice aside, but was reluctant to allow the boy to lay down again. "Can you open it and give them to him, please?"

Smiling, she did as asked and helped Rodney get the pills in his mouth. John quickly provided the juice to wash them down and once the pills were swallowed, McKay pulled away. "Now go 'way and lemme sleep," he groused.

"Okay," agreed John. "Go back to sleep now and we'll check on you later."

As he and Teyla stood and turned to go, Rodney whimpered pitifully. "'M cold."

John looked around, but saw nothing that would serve as a blanket. He thought for a moment and then peeled off his over-large t-shirt and placed it over the shivering McKay. "Sorry, buddy, but that's the best I can do for now."

Rodney snuggled down into it, drawing the garment tightly around him. "'S okay, 's better."

"Good. Better's...good." John stood there for a long while, simply watching as the ailing youngster drifted ever-deeper into sleep. When it became apparent that he wasn't going to move on his own, Teyla took him by the hand and guided him back across the room. He continued to look back at Rodney the entire way, finally whispering, "He'll be okay."

It was Ronon who spoke up to disagree. "He needs a doctor. And a bed. A real one, not a spot he claimed on the floor in the corner."

John pulled his gaze from Rodney long enough to glare at the Satedan. "I thought we agreed that it was too dangerous," he challenged.

Ronon shrugged. "Probably is," he agreed. "But still needs to be done."

"Perhaps if only one of us went out to check for signs of a patrol?" suggested Teyla.

"And check out that doctor," added Ronon.

John didn't answer immediately, busy running through all of his options. The others didn't push him, allowing him the time to come to a decision. John both appreciated and resented it at the same time. Why did he have to decide? How come he had to be the leader anyway? He certainly didn't ask for it. Just because he was the oldest? That was no reason. Besides, he wasn't even certain that he was the oldest. It's not like they'd had time to sit around trading vital statistics info or anything. Still, someone had to take care of the others and for whatever reason, the others had unanimously chosen him. How and why that had occurred, he didn't know. They hadn't voted or anything. Heck, no one had even brought it up at all. It had just...happened. Whenever there was a decision to be made, they had all immediately looked to him to make it, and then obeyed when he'd told them what to do. It was, well, freaky.

But freaky or not, a choice clearly needed to be made here. And sooner rather than later. Sighing, he gave them his decision. "Okay, here's what we're going to do. You two are going to stay here and watch Rodney. If he wakes up or seems restless again, you should give him more apple or grape juice. NO orange though," he reminded. "I'm going to head out for a little bit of recon and see if I can find Beckett."

"I should go with you," said Ronon. "You need someone to watch your back."

John rolled his eyes. "You just want an excuse to shoot someone again. Besides, this calls for some serious stealth, my friend. And you lugging that big honkin' gun of yours isn't going to cut it." When he saw that Ronon was about to protest, he held up his hand to forestall him. "And besides, I need you to help Teyla. She can't take care of Rodney and watch the door at the same time. And there's the whole issue of what happens if they're lying and I get caught. You're going to have to help her move him to another secure location. So save it, will ya? We have to do it my way this time, chief. End of discussion."

The other two shared a quick look and then nodded. "Okay," agreed Ronon, though his expression clearly conveyed how unhappy he was with the situation.

"We understand," said Teyla. She looked no happier than Ronon, but at least she didn't argue.

"Good. If I'm not back in two hours, assume I've been caught and get Rodney somewhere safe. I'll find you as soon as I can escape. If I'm not back within four hours, give Rodney another packet of tylenol and juice--wake him up if you have to. Repeat that every four to six hours until he doesn't have a fever anymore. Got it?" He took a deep breath, relieved when the two of them nodded in agreement. "Good, then I guess I'll be leaving now."

Teyla quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. She placed one hand on each of his shoulders, pausing only a moment before touching her forehead to his. John wasn't quite certain what to do, so he decided to allow her whatever it was that she needed from him and went along with it. Besides, it felt...right, somehow. Then she pulled back, leaving her hands on his arms. "Please, John, be careful."

Flashing her a cocky grin, he shrugged. "Always am." Waving, he took off down the hallway. Never once did he look back.

~A~

"Well, Doctor Beckett, it's been several hours. How long do expect us to wait to resume the search for Colonel Sheppard and his team?" Woolsey again sat at the head of the conference table, his hands steepled in front of him as he waited for the Scot to reply.

For his part, Carson didn't hesitate to speak his mind. "Ideally, I'd like to give them until tomorrow morning." Seeing that Woolsey was about to object, he quickly qualified his statement. "But I'll settle for a few more hours if I have to. We have to give them time to accept that we're not their adversaries. I'm certain that they'll be out checking for patrols and search parties soon, if they're not already. Once they see that we're telling the truth, they'll come around. I know they will."

Woolsey considered his words, then looked pointedly at Major Lorne. "I gather there haven't been any further incidents since they liberated those weapons?"

"No, sir, there hasn't been a peep out of them. No one has seen hide nor hair of any of them since they stunned Jennings. Either they've gone to ground or..." Though he didn't finish the sentence, everyone there seemed to understand the implication, given the looks on their faces.

"So you don't agree with Doctor Beckett that they've been out doing surveillance?" To his credit, Woolsey was doing his best to understand all sides of the equation--even though he was clearly out of his league in this instance.

"Oh, I have no doubt they've been out checking for any signs of deception on our parts." Lorne was quick to put that doubt to rest.

"But you just said there has been no sign of them."

"There hasn't. Sir, they may be ten years old now, but they're still Colonel Sheppard and his team. If they don't want to be seen, they won't be seen. Period."

Woolsey took a moment to digest his words and then turned to Radek. "Has there been any progress on getting our internal sensors back online?"

Zelenka had bags under his red-rimmed eyes. "No, I regret to report that there has been no progress in that area at all. We have the transporters all back online, but the scanners are proving to be quite difficult. For every step forward, we wind up taking three steps backward. At this rate, it will be weeks before we are able to get them back online and fully functional."

"So in other words, we are no closer to finding them now than we were eight hours ago?"

Lorne, Zelenka, Keller and Beckett all exchanged a knowing look. "That would be correct, sir," answered Lorne.

"Agreed," said Radek.

"Yeah, me, too," added Keller. "And I have to stress here again how disastrous it could be for them to remain without medical care. We need to examine them as soon as possible to determine what, if any, side effects the device is causing. Aside from the obvious, of course."

Woolsey looked to Carson, who appeared to have no intention of speaking. "Doctor?"

Beckett folded his arms across his chest. "I've said everything I have to say already. I don't see any point in repeating it."

"Very well then." Woolsey paused, appearing to consider their input further. "All right, Doctor Beckett, you have another four hours. If they haven't made contact by that time, I'm calling out all available personnel to mount a city-wide search. One way or another, we are going to find them," he vowed. "Dismissed."

"I'll be in my office if anyone needs me," announced Carson. Gathering his papers, he hurried off without so much as a backward glance.

~A~


	2. Chapter 2

John quickly ducked behind a large plant, waiting until the potential danger passed by him. Another group of scientists, he thought. He'd been exploring for nearly an hour, and so far there had been no sign at all of any organized search effort. It looked like that Beckett guy had been truthful--and that his superiors were as well. Still, John wasn't completely ready to trust them just yet. It was time for a real test, he decided.

Without thinking, he turned and headed for the transporter he'd passed a few moment earlier. He met no one, but that made sense because all of the windows he'd passed were completely dark, which meant it was very late at night. Though there was nearly always someone up and about in the city, there were decidedly fewer during the wee hours of the night. His confidence growing, he touched the dot that would take him almost directly to the infirmary.

The doors opened to a nearly empty hallway. He stepped out, slowly turning around upon hearing a familiar tapping sound behind him. His breath caught in his throat as a white-coated technician looked up from the data pad she was carrying. As their eyes met, she jumped, a startled look blossoming on her face. But to his amazement, she got over her surprise and simply waved before continuing on her way.

He stood there for a time, just staring after her while he wondered what to do next. This was it, he thought. The marines would be descending on him at any moment and he'd be in custody. His father was going to have a total conniption over this one when he heard, of that John had no doubt. He'd be grounded for years this time, lucky to see the outside world again before he was thirty. If then.

Pushing aside his fear of fatherly wrath, he concentrated on the here and now. It had been awhile, he thought. Surely the marines wouldn't have been that far away? Why weren't they here by now? Oh well, he decided. Might as well get on with it. When it came right down to it, it didn't really matter if they caught him here or in the infirmary or somewhere in between.

Buoyed by his reasoning, he turned back around and headed for Beckett's office, determined to see things through to the end. He reached the doors to the medical unit with no further incidents and confidently strode through them. His heart was pounding in his chest as he made his way back to the doctor's office. Several nurses and technicians saw him and paused, startled looks on their faces. None of them made any attempt to stop him, either smiling or nodding or waving before returning to their various tasks.

By the time he'd reached the door he sought, his legs felt like rubber and his heart was trying to beat right out of his chest. The light was on, which either meant that the doctor was there or else a security team was lying in wait, or both. He decided not to knock, opening the door and walking right in.

There was no security team, much to his relief. With more confidence than he felt, he walked right up to the desk. Carson was asleep at the keyboard of his laptop, so he boldly reached out and poked the doctor's arm until he lifted his head. "Rodney's sick," he announced, proud that his voice didn't waiver.

Beckett blinked, rubbing his eyes. His smile was genuine when he realized who was standing there in front of him. "So ye finally decided to trust me, did ye? Where are the others?" he asked, looking around.

John placed his hands on his hips and glared at the doctor. "I already said. Rodney's sick. You need to come help him."

Instantly awake, Carson's demeanor changed completely and he was all business. "Oh! All right, what's wrong with the lad? Where is he?"

"I'll take you. He's running a fever and sleeping a lot." John looked on warily as the Scot gathered a few items and threw them in his bag. "We gave him juice and tylenol, but I don't know if it helped or not."

"All right then, let me get Angela to come with us and we can be on our way then. Has Rodney eaten or drank anything? He may well be prone to exaggerate things, but he definitely has..."

John's annoyance grew with each word out of the doctor's mouth, until finally he cut the man off mid-sentence. "He's deathly allergic to citrus and he gets hypoglycemic if he don't eat often enough--we know all that. And nobody else comes with or the deal's off," he threatened.

Stunned by the anger in John's voice, Carson froze. "Oh, right. Well, of course you'd know. And if ye didn't, I'm sure he'd not hesitate to tell ye. I'm sorry, lad, I wasn't thinking." John could tell he wanted to say more, but to his credit, the man held his tongue.

"It's okay, just forget it. But the nobody else coming part is not open for discussion," he insisted. His anger faded as quickly as it had risen. "It's just a fever and if you need help you can call for it later."

John waited while Beckett considered the situation. At last, the Scot nodded. "Very well then, I accept your terms. Let's be off now, shall we? The sooner I see him, the better." He started for the door, but stopped almost immediately and turned back to the youngster. "I was just wondering if I'm allowed to tell them where I'm going? They're bound to ask questions when they see me leaving with my bag," he explained.

After a moment's consideration, John pointed to his left. "We'll go the back way. And you can't tell where we're going unless anyone asks directly."

Carson raised an eyebrow. "Aye, well that makes sense. Less likely that we'll meet anyone this time of night going that way." He nodded. "All right, I won't tell unless I'm asked--but I won't lie, I'm telling ye that right off."

"Deal." Satisfied with the terms, John slipped ahead of the doctor and led the way to the nearest transporter.

~A~

Carson followed the boy down the nearly deserted hallways of the city. After awhile, he began to wonder whether John was lost as they seemed to be doing an inordinate amount of doubling back, crisscrossing, and aimless wandering. He'd been about to call the lad on it when John suddenly stopped, raised his fist, and dropped to his knee--an eerily familiar sequence that left Beckett tingling all over.

"All right, I don't think we're being followed," said the pint-sized colonel. "Come on, I'll take you to Rodney now." Without waiting for an answer, he did an abrupt about-face and headed back the way they'd come.

Once he'd recovered enough to stop gaping and close his mouth, the Scot hurried after his guide. He couldn't help but be amazed by John's instinctive ability and knowledge of the steps required to avoid pursuit and evade capture. It was no small wonder that the others had experienced such difficulty while pursuing the youngsters, he thought. He might not have his adult memories, but his survival instinct and abilities were without question those of the adult John Sheppard. Between him and the rest of the city's premiere off world team, it was suddenly clear to him exactly what Major Lorne had been saying in the briefing--and what they'd been going through all during their search.

So preoccupied was he with his musings that Carson hadn't even realized they'd entered the lower levels. John wasted no time now and kept the pace brisk, sticking to a more direct path with virtually no unnecessary deviations or turns. He slowed at last, holding out his hand to signal Beckett to stop. "It's us, guys," he called.

Carson took a step forward, but John grabbed his jacket and held him back. "Wait till they answer," he instructed. "Or you'll be sorry."

"They're expecting us, aren't they?" Beckett started forward again. "And I need to see to my patient."

"Ok," agreed John. "But don't say I didn't warn you."

"Warn me about what?"

"Ronon. He says not, but I can tell."

Carson was rapidly losing patience. "What on earth are ye on about, lad? I've not got all day here--and neither does Rodney, I'd guess."

John shrugged. "He wants to shoot someone again. To stun them," he qualified. "I don't think he really wants to hurt anyone. Not anyone here, anyway. At least not yet."

That stopped the doctor dead in his tracks. "Oh, well then. I suppose we should wait until they answer us."

Glaring at Carson, John again called out to his team. "Guys! We're here now and we're coming in."

Dead silence was the only reply. Giving Beckett a worried look, he nodded toward the far door on the left. "I'm going in. You should probably wait here until I give the all clear." He didn't wait for the doctor to agree, immediately taking off for the room where he'd left the others.

Shaking his head, Carson followed. It just didn't seem right to let a child clear the way for him, even if said child had the instincts of a seasoned soldier. Still, in addition to having a head start, John was faster and disappeared through the doorway before Beckett had taken more than a couple of steps. What he heard immediately after sent his heart rate skyrocketing.

"Guys? What are you doing? Get up! You're supposed to be taking care of Rodney and standing watch," said John.

Carson had nearly reached the door but still there had been no answer from the apparently slacking parties. John's voice again filled the hallway, this time with more than just hint of worry and desperation in it. "Ronon! Teyla! Come on guys, wake up," he demanded.

Bursting through the door, Beckett found John kneeling next to the prone forms of both Ronon and Teyla. Both appeared to be deeply asleep or unconscious. Best to start there, he thought, and went straight to them. Opening his bag, he set straight to work on getting vitals.

"They won't wake up," John informed him, fighting off tears. "I shook them and everything, but they're not waking up."

Sparing a moment to pat his shoulder, Carson tried to comfort him. "I can see that. But not to worry, son, I'm fairly certain that they're very deeply asleep. Likely exhausted from...all the excitement." He'd almost slipped and told the boy what had really happened to them, that when they had woken up that morning they'd all been full grown adults. But until they had a more complete picture of what condition their bodies were in, especially their brains, the less said about that the better. Smiling encouragingly, he finished his exam.

"They aren't waking up." John sat between his two team members, his expression bleak.

"But they will once they've rested," insisted Beckett, climbing to his feet. "So no frettin' about it." He looked around, searching for the fourth and final member of the group. "Now I'd like to see to Rodney. Can you show me where he is?"

Only slightly mollified, the youngster nodded. "He's over there." John led him over to the largest console in the room. Carson was thankful to find it completely dark--at least that was one less thing to worry about. No telling what trouble they could have gotten into or what effect it might have on their current conditions.

Behind the unit, Rodney still lay curled up in a ball. His shivering had almost totally abated, but his cheeks were still flushed from the fever. He was clutching a dark piece of cloth, but the doctor couldn't quite tell what it was. As Carson knelt down to begin his exam, John provided the explanation.

"He was cold and shivering and stuff. Before I left to come find you, I mean. So I gave him my shirt because it was all I could find. I guess the tylenol wasn't working yet. He said it was better after that though."

"That was very good thinking on your part," said the Scot. "Ye've done a right proper job of taking care of all of them." He watched John out of the corner of his eye as he finished examining McKay. From what he could see, Rodney wasn't in any immediate danger, though the unexplained fever was definitely cause for concern.

John, at least, was conscious, though he certainly looked a bit worse for wear. There were dark circles around his eyes and he seemed to be shaking now that the excitement was over. "Are ye cold, lad? I mean, after literally giving away the shirt off your back, who wouldn't be?"

Without a moment's hesitation, the boy shook his head. "I'm good."

Carson had done all he could for Rodney for the moment and turned his full attention to the only member of the team he hadn't yet examined. "I'm glad to hear that. I'd still like to have a look at ye, though." Seeing John was about to protest, he added, "It might help the others. For comparison purposes, ye understand."

Though he wasn't totally buying it, John did grudgingly agree. "Okay, if you really think it will help the others."

"Oh aye, that I do. Mind ye, I'm not entirely certain how yet, but I have no doubt it will help." Beckett pointed to a vacant counter next to the console. "How about ye hop up here and I'll have a quick look?"

Though far from thrilled with the prospect, John nonetheless did as requested and moved over to the counter. Carson could see the exhaustion in the boy's every movement as he hopped up and settled himself. "Okay, what do I do now?"

"Now ye just sit there and let me do a preliminary exam. But first, I need to call for gurneys for the others." He waited for the expected tirade, or at the very least a vehement protest. To his great surprise, neither came.

Instead, John looked down at Rodney and then over to the two sleeping on the other side of the room. At last he turned red-rimmed eyes to the doctor. "Can you make them all better? For real?"

Carson sucked in a sharp breath. "I won't lie to ye, lad. Unfortunately, that's about the only thing I can promise ye right now. I don't know precisely what's wrong with them yet, though from what I can tell from the limited exam I've been able to do, each of them should awaken once they've rested. But I can't predict how long that will take, much as I wish I could, and I don't yet know what's causing Rodney's fever. So until I can get him under the scanner and draw some blood for tests, I can't promise anything one way or the other; I can and do promise ye I'll do my level best to make them all right as rain again just as fast as humanly possible. The one thing I know for certain is that I cannot do anymore for them here than I already have. And that's the truth."

John didn't answer immediately, scrubbing a hand wearily over his face as he considered his options. At last, he nodded. "Okay. If you think it's best."

Beckett called for the med teams to come and retrieve the sleeping members of Team Sheppard, but ran into a slight problem with the directions. He'd gotten so thoroughly distracted and turned around on the journey there that he had to have John explain the fastest route to them, much to his chagrin. Once that was done and they were on the way, he finally got down to business and began examining his only conscious patient. He quickly and efficiently completed his task, one by one noting the results of temperature, pulse, and blood pressure. He was finishing up with a listen to John's lungs and heart. "Breathe deep, lad," he instructed.

John complied, stifling a yawn. Satisfied with what he'd heard after listening to both front and back, Carson moved on to listen to the boy's heart. Finding nothing unusual, he was about to pull away when suddenly John pitched forward. "Whoa there, laddie, where do ye think ye're going?"

Beckett barely had time to react, but managed to catch the boy. When John didn't answer him, Carson did a quick re-check of his vitals. John's breathing was deep and even, just like Teyla and Ronon. He responded to the usual stimuli for reflexes and his pupils were fine, leading the physician to the conclusion that he too had simply at last given in to exhaustion and was completely and totally asleep. Lifting him from the counter with the intention of laying him next to his team, he started across the room. Once there, he paused, cradling the boy close to him. "Sleep well, lad. We'll do our best to get things put right again for all of ye, that I promise ye." With nothing else to do but worry, he sank to the floor and settled in to wait for his medics, still holding the slumbering boy-Sheppard.

~A~

John woke suddenly, unable to see anything but darkness. There were no shadows, no faint outlines, nothing but the inky blackness all around him. There was noise though. He couldn't tell where it was coming from, but the almost-familiar chittering and clacking set his teeth on edge. He felt around for a weapon of some sort, but found only fabric as far as he could reach. Bed, he thought. I'm in bed. That meant there must be a light of some sort nearby so, carefully, he stood and felt his way along the edge of the bed to where a nightstand or lamp should be.

The noise continued, inching ever closer to his back as he fumbled along. His heart pounded in his chest as he clumsily felt his way to the head of the bed. It seemed like an eternity had passed by the time he finally located the fixture and, with an immense sense of relief, turned it on. Temporarily blinded by the sudden light, he turned around to face the area from which the sound seemed to be originating. The noise changed abruptly, escalating to a near-frenzied intensity; apparently, the creature making it hadn't appreciated the sudden brightness. John's eyes slowly adjusted and at last he could make out a dark mass crouching a few feet in front of him. It swayed back and forth, as if it wanted to advance but couldn't. Blind, he realized. The light had affected it, too.

Moments later, his vision fully returned and he could clearly see the source of the sound. A huge black bug stood barely a foot in front of him, still chittering and clacking as it swayed. Frozen with terror, he opened his mouth and tried to scream, but nothing came out. Run, he thought. I need to run. He knew instinctively that it was a bad thing and that he'd be in serious trouble if it ever reached him, but he remained firmly rooted to the spot. "Dad," he whispered, his vocal chords at last obeying his brain's instructions.

The word had no sooner left his lips than the hideous-looking thing launched itself into the air, coming directly for him. He did scream this time, as loud and as long as he could. He felt it scamper up his torso, prompting him to scream all the louder. He tried to grab it and fling it away, but it was too quick and he was unable to get a hold of it. The next thing he knew there was a stinging sensation on the side of his neck, followed quickly by something tightening around his throat. He pulled at it, trying to get it off, and all the while screaming for his father, or anyone, to come and help him, to get it _off_.

"John! Come on, John, you gotta wake up now," called an unknown female voice. "That's it, open your eyes for us."

As the nightmare faded, he did as requested and looked up into a completely unfamiliar face. His chest was heaving as he tried to suck in enough air, looking frantically around for someone he recognized. Finding no one, he fought to keep the tears at bay. "Where's my dad? I want my dad. Dad!" Searching for the door, he sat up and prepared to flee.

"Oh, no-no-no-no," said the strange woman. "You can't get up yet, you'll tear your IV out." Her expression softened, but her hold on his shoulders remained firm. "I'm really sorry, but your dad's not here. But he...he asked us to take care of you. Until he can...until he can come back. So you have to stay here and cooperate with us. Just until he gets back, of course."

"No! I want my dad!" He struggled against her, trying to get up and find his father, but the woman was too strong for him. "Dad! Dad, help me!"

The woman spoke to someone that John couldn't see, but he didn't hear what was said, too caught up in the struggle for his freedom. "Let me go!" he screamed. "I want my dad!" He blocked out everything else around him and focused all of his efforts on getting free. He kicked at them, even going so far as to try to bite the woman to force her to let go.

"Get it in his IV," she ordered. "Hurry!"

"No! I want my dad! Let me go!" He tried to keep fighting, but suddenly his limbs began to feel heavy. "Wha'd...wha'd..y'...do?" he demanded, his words beginning to slur.

"You let him go!" John recognized the voice of his new friend, Ronon, and tried to call for help, but now even his voice was refusing to work. The room felt like it was spinning, but he continued to try to fight her. His entire body felt weighted down, refusing to respond to his brain's demands, and his struggles grew less and less effective. His eyes grew heavier and heavier, until finally they closed and the darkness took him away.

Ronon saw his friend's body go limp, his anger surging. Swinging the IV pole he'd liberated from his bed in a wide arc over his head, he ran to John's side. "Back off! I told you to get away," he warned.

Medical personnel dived out of his way to avoid being hit and before they knew it, he had leapt up onto John's bed, holding the pole in front of him and ready to use on anyone who appeared to be contemplating rushing him. He spared a brief glance down at the motionless body before his eyes sought out Keller and demanded answers. "What have you done to him?"

"Nothing, I swear! He had a very bad dream and refused to calm down. We just gave him a little something to help him sleep again, that's all. I--we--would never do anything to hurt him and I think deep down you know that," said Keller.

"I don't believe you," said Ronon, his eyes still glittering with rage. "Wake him up again. Now!"

Before she could answer, there was a clattering noise from behind him. "I would not do that if I were you," said a familiar voice. Though tempted to risk a glance to see what was happening, Ronon kept his eyes on the woman in front of him, watching the surrounding crowd in his peripheral vision. Another loud clank rang through the room, followed almost immediately by the distinct thud of a body hitting the floor. "Do not say I did not attempt to warn you," said Teyla. A curtain rustled and moments later, he felt the dip of the bed and knew she had joined him.

"What in bloody Hell is going on here?" demanded Carson, pushing his way through the gathering crowd of onlookers. His mouth fell open as he took in the scene before him. Despite their small stature, Ronon and Teyla looked quite intimidating, standing back-to-back on the end of John's bed, each wielding an IV pole in a very threatening manner. "Jennifer?" Though addressing someone else, Beckett's eyes never left them.

"John had a nightmare and Ronon and Teyla here are just a little confused about what we had to do to treat him for it, that's all. Everything is fine and no one is going to be hurt here, right, guys?" she asked, looking directly at the children.

"Liar!" Without hesitation, the two youngsters answered in unison, but Ronon was the one to provide the rest of the explanation. "I saw her. She was hurting him. Then she made him go to sleep and now she won't wake him up like I said."

Shaking his head in exasperation, Carson walked straight up to the bed. "May I examine him, please?" he asked the duo, waiting patiently for them to decide. Ronon and Teyla looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. At last, Ronon nodded and they stepped aside just enough to allow Carson access to John.

Beckett quickly and efficiently completed his exam. "What did ye give him, if I may ask?" he asked, turning to Keller.

"What difference does that make?" demanded Ronon, annoyed with the delay. "Just get on with it and wake him up."

Carson sighed, turning his attention back to the two protectors. "You're right, son. I suppose it doesn't make any difference at all. Jennifer gave John something called a sedative. That's a type of drug that makes a person sleep. We can't wake him up without giving him a strong stimulant, and that can be very dangerous to him. It could even kill him. So I'm very sorry, but I'm going to have to refuse your request, lad. I won't take that risk, no matter what you say you're going to do. He's going to have to wake up on his own."

"How long will it take for him to awaken on his own?" asked Teyla. Ronon knew that like himself, she was keeping a very close eye on the crowd, staying alert and ready to strike out at anyone who might dare to approach without permission.

"Well now, there's a question. I cannot say for certain, mind ye, but I'd guess it's going to be around 6 hours, give or take. Which is quite a long time to be standing up there waving those poles around, don't you think?" Carson didn't back down, looking each of them directly in the eyes as he boldly proposed a solution. "Look, I know ye both just want to help him, but a body has its limits--even yours. So let's talk about what it will take to get ye down from there. I'll go first. I suggest we start with sending all these people on about their business," he said, waving in the general direction of the crowd. "Then I'd like to ask ye both to come down from there. We can get a couple of chairs in here for ye so ye can be right next to him. Or better yet, ye can hop on over to one of these beds," he said, pointing to the two on either side of John's. "That way ye can both be right here when he wakes up. How does that sound?"

The two youngsters exchanged a look, after which Ronon again took the lead. "If all the other people will go, we'll move to the other bed--but no more needles. For any of us. And no more sleeping-drugs for Sheppard. Teyla got him to calm down before; she can do it again if he has another dream."

Beckett thought for a moment. "I'll agree to the no needles for you and Teyla; but for now, John needs the IV. We'll see about removing it once he's awake. And I'm going to have to amend the no-drugs part about Col...John. If he has another nightmare, I will agree to allow Teyla to try to calm him first. But if she's not able to settle him within a reasonable amount of time, then I'll have to insist that you not interfere when we do what we feel is best for him, be that a sedative or something else. And I'll make certain that you're kept informed of what we're doing, so that there won't be any surprises. That's the best I can do, lad. So what do you think? Do we have a deal?"

"Carson, you can't..." Jennifer started to protest, but was interrupted when a short man with big dark-rimmed glasses stepped through the parting crowd.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Keller, but I'm afraid I must disagree. In fact, I insist that you allow Doctor Beckett to handle this from now on. He seems to be having far more success with...with obtaining the children's cooperation than anyone else so far. I think it might be best for everyone if he were to take over their care until the current...situation is resolved."

Though clearly unhappy, Keller nodded. "All right, I suppose I can't argue with that. I'll be in the lab working if anyone needs me."

The new arrival next turned his attention to the gathering of onlookers. "Move along now, people. I'm sure you all have far more important things to be doing. And if not, report to your respective heads of department; I've no doubt they can find something more productive for you to do than gawk at Ronon and Teyla."

He waited until the crowd dispersed, then strode purposefully up to the bed where Ronon and Teyla still stood watch over Sheppard. "Now then. First, I would like to apologize for the interruption, but I think we'll make far more progress this way. Second, I believe Doctor Beckett has proposed a solution. Do you need a moment to consider or might we have an answer?"

Ronon looked at Teyla, unsure quite what to make of this newcomer. Obviously he was someone with considerable clout, judging from the way the crowd left without argument. Plus he had the authority to kick that lady doctor out and put Beckett in charge of them. And that was another thing; while Ronon wasn't exactly sure he trusted Carson, he was definitely preferable to the others. Teyla nodded at him, as if she could hear and follow his thoughts. It was kinda weird, but it also felt right somehow. He gestured toward the next bed and she silently acknowledged.

"I'll take this bed and Teyla wants that one," he said, pointing to the beds on both sides of John. "And we want that Rodney kid moved in here with us, too."

"Anything else?" asked the stranger. There was more than just a little bite in his tone, a fact that did not go unnoticed by either of the youngsters.

Ronon shrugged, enjoying the feeling of having the little man on the defensive. "Probably. But this is a good enough start for now."

"Very well then. I'll leave you in Doctor Beckett's apparently quite capable hands." He gave Carson a pointed look, one that even Ronon clearly understood to mean 'This is on you now and you'll be answering for whatever happens next.'

As the strange little man turned on his heel and made his exit, Beckett wasted no time in addressing their demands. "All right then, since Mr. Woolsey has already seen to your first demand, we'll start with the next one on the list. We won't restart the IV's but I will need to clean and bandage those," he said, indicating the puncture site on each of their arms, which were currently sporting twin trickles of blood.

"What about Rodney?" asked Teyla. "When will he be moved in here to join us?"

Carson thought for a moment. "I'll have him brought over while I'm tending to the two of you. He should be here and settled in no time."

"Very well," she answered warily. "But make no mistake, should you attempt any trickery there will be consequences. Severe consequences."

"Yeah, what she said," added Ronon.

"Of course. Now if you'll excuse me for a moment, I'll see to the arrangements and get the supplies I'll need to see to the two of you." Pausing to see if there were any objections, he strode off to the far side of the ward.

Once he was out of earshot, Ronon turned to Teyla. "You think he'll really do it?"

She thought for a moment, then nodded. "I believe so. He has been very forthcoming so far. And John did trust him enough to reveal our location to him."

"They might have forced him though," countered Ronon. "Until John wakes up, we can't be sure what happened."

"Perhaps not. But I overheard two of them talking right before I joined you. They were discussing how the doctor had called upon John to give them directions to our hideout because Carson had become lost. They seemed to find it quite amusing, for some reason. I think we must trust him for now, at least until he gives us a reason not to."

"In the meantime?"

Teyla shrugged. "We remain vigilant and watch over our friends."

Ronon nodded. "Okay. Might as well get comfortable then." He dropped onto the mattress, taking a seat near the foot of John's bed and keeping his IV pole ready. Teyla quickly joined him and together, they settled in to wait.

~A~

Carson strode into the ward, heading straight for the beds of the four transformed members of Sheppard's team. Once Rodney had been settled in--not waking at all through the entire process--the two native members of the group had taken up watch, then promptly passed out to sleep again themselves. Their collective exhaustion was a bit worrying to him, but after going over the scans and blood tests he fully expected that to change within the next few hours.

What the tests hadn't revealed, however, was the cause of the mysterious fever which was currently plaguing Rodney. His white cell count was within normal parameters, contraindicating infection as the culprit. More specific testing would be required and, not wanting a repeat of the previous evening's episode, he was hoping to find Sheppard awake; if he could get John on board, he was fairly certain that the other two would follow. It amazed him to see the depth of their trust and belief in each other, especially regarding John Sheppard. Even with no memory of each other, they'd instinctively looked to John for leadership. In turn, he had stepped up to the plate, taking on the role of leader and protector with a fierceness that most adults would find impossible to match.

Rounding the pulled curtain, he stopped short, shaking his head as he took in the scene before him. Ronon's and Teyla's beds were empty; the Satedan was sacked out at the foot of John's bed and the Athosian at the foot of Rodney's. McKay was still asleep, though not as peacefully as the last time Beckett had seen him. Sheppard was sitting up in the bed, glaring up at the half-empty IV bag that was connected to his arm.

"Don't even think about it, lad. As soon as it's finished, I'll be glad to remove it, but ye need to leave it until then," he warned.

"How come Ronon and Teyla don't have to have one?"

"They did have one, but they've not been affected nearly as much as you or Rodney there. Ye just need a little more top-off than they did, that's all." He smiled then, losing the stern-parent persona for the moment. "I was hoping we could talk for a moment, if ye don't mind?"

"I guess, if you want." John shrugged, trying for an air of nonchalance that Beckett instantly saw through.

"Good. Let me just get our friend there back to his own bed and then we can chat for a bit."

The smirk on the boy's face was eerily familiar. "I wouldn't do that if I were you." About to lift the sleeping youngster, Carson paused, raising an eyebrow in question. "The nurses already tried. Five times now, I think. Or maybe it was six. Anyway, he just moves right back as soon as they leave. Teyla too," he added. "That last time he mumbled something about shooting someone. I think he meant the next person to move him, but I'm not sure. He was pretty groggy, so I might have misunderstood. But you can go ahead and move him, if you want. I'm sure he was only kidding anyway. Probably."

Carson straightened, warily backing away and pulling a nearby stool over to the bedside. "Well, I suppose he's not really hurting anything being where he is and as long as you don't mind him being there, that's the most important thing."

Rodney picked that moment to moan in his sleep, turning restlessly and crowding Teyla. Beckett looked over in concern, unsure of what the best course of action might be. "Perhaps I'd best move the lass before she gets hurt," he suggested.

"Nah, just leave her there. She won't get hurt. Just watch." John was confident, so the doctor went along with him. For several moments, nothing happened. Then McKay groaned, again forcing her even closer to the edge of the bed.

Carson made as if to stand, but Sheppard stopped him cold. "Wait for it," demanded John. "Won't be long now."

He'd no sooner finished speaking than Rodney again shifted. Teyla's arm dropped over the edge of the bed, but she didn't appear to fully awaken. Her eyes still closed, she thumped Rodney on the lower part of his leg. Carson winced in sympathy, expecting the pint-sized scientist to open his eyes and complain--loudly. To his amazement, the boy instead mumbled "sorry" and moved back over, again allowing her space at the foot of the bed. She gently patted the same spot where she'd just smacked him, a silent acceptance of his apology, and the two of them immediately settled back into their original positions.

"Told ya," gloated John. "The first time he woke up and complained, but she told him he had two choices. One, he could apologize like a gentleman and go back to sleep. Or two, she'd make sure that the entire city knew that he got beat up by a girl. He went with option number one." There was no mistaking the glee in the youngster's face as he related the tale. "Ronon said he was a wuss, so Rodney called him a Neanderthal back. Only Ronon didn't know what that was, so I told him it was someone with no brains and all brawn. Then he said he'd show Rodney how good brains were when someone was beating the crap out of you, but Teyla told him to shut up so she could sleep." Seeing Beckett's skeptical look, John shrugged. "She might have said it a little nicer though. Anyway, that was the end of it and everyone went back to sleep."

"Everyone but you, I gather?" Carson was fairly certain he knew what the boy's answer would be even before he'd asked the question.

John shrugged. "My turn on watch. And that's about it until you showed up. To _talk_." Clearly, the lad wasn't pleased with the prospect.

Knowing he would need to approach the subject carefully, he nodded. "Aye, I need to ask your help with something. It's about Rodney," he explained.

John's guard immediately went back up. "What about him?"

Carson took a deep breath before launching into his explanation. "Ye know he's running a fever?" At the boy's nod, he continued. "Well, we've been trying to find out why he's doing that so that we can more effectively treat it. Right now, regular doses of tylenol are preventing it from rising any higher, but it's not going away. We need to find out what's causing it so that we can cure it. The tests we've run on him so far haven't given us any clue as to the source."

"So you need to do more tests," guessed John. At Beckett's nod, he frowned. "Okay. So what's the big deal? Do the tests and find out how to fix him. Seems pretty simple to me."

Shooting a quick glance at the youngster at the foot of the bed, Carson clamped down his own rising irritation and patiently explained. "Aye, ye'd think so. But after last night--I'm assuming ye heard about the...incident last night?" John shifted uncomfortably, but nodded. "Well, I don't want to risk upsetting your two friends there. So I was hoping you might help me convince them that this is for the best."

Sheppard looked first to one, then the other before finally turning his attention back to the doctor. "They won't have a problem with it."

"It's not that I doubt ye or anything, but perhaps we should tell them about it first?"

John rolled his eyes. "They already know." Seeing the doubt in Beckett's eyes, he shrugged. "They heard every word you said."

Now it was Carson's turn to frown. "Oh. But I thought they were sleeping," he protested.

Again, the youngster rolled his eyes--exaggerating the gesture this time. "They were. But they've been awake pretty much ever since you came in."

"Oh. Well then. I suppose if no one has any objections, I should go see about scheduling those tests." He stood, frowning as he looked from one bed to the other. They still appeared to be sleeping to him, but he wasn't about to contradict John when the lad was cooperating. Shaking his head, he turned to leave.

"Wait a minute," called Sheppard. "What about this?"

Beckett found him glaring petulantly up at the IV bag again and was barely able to suppress his laughter. "It's not quite finished yet; however, I think it will probably be close enough by the time I get the arrangements made for Rodney's tests. I'll come back and personally take it out when I've got everything set. If that's all right with you?" he added.

Resigned to his fate, John sighed. "Fine. But...can you try to hurry?"

"Oh, I will. I promise." Still smiling, Beckett hurried off, leaving the pouting Sheppard to once more watch over his little flock.

~A~

Three small figures plastered themselves as close to the wall as they could get--no easy task as laden with needed supplies as they were. One inched forward, covertly peeking around the corner as the two others hung back.

"We clear or not?"

"John?"

Sheppard waved his hand to shush his two over-eager teammates. Craning his neck to see better without totally revealing himself, he watched intently for several moments before finally turning his attention back to his companions. "Are you guys _trying_ to get us caught? What if there had been someone coming? We'd have been toast for sure."

"Not if you'd have let me bring that blaster," Ronon pointed out helpfully.

John glared at him. "I told you, we aren't going to run around stunning people. Not unless they cross us, and so far, they're keeping their end of the deal. They let us out of the infirmary, just like Carson said."

"Yeah, but they also tried to stick us with a babysitter," argued the Satedan. "That wasn't supposed to be part of the deal."

"That was not Doctor Beckett's decision and you know it." Teyla looked like she was beginning to regret her decision to accompany the two boys. She had said it sounded like a much more pleasant alternative to sitting in the small enclosure with little to do beyond watching Rodney sleep, but now that the sniping between him and Ronon was escalating she didn't look quite so certain.

John snorted. "So? It took us what, five whole minutes to ditch the guy? Piece of cake, my friend--and not worth making enemies over."

"A lot more fun though," said Ronon, grinning.

Teyla and John shared an eye-roll at their teammate's comment. "Come on, let's get out of here before someone comes along and we end up being toast anyway." Hefting the coil of rope he'd draped over his shoulder, he darted forward, taking it as a given that his cohorts would follow.

~A~

"What do you mean your man lost them? Doctor Beckett only released them a few moments ago!" Richard Woolsey leaned forward in his chair, a serious death-grip on the arm rests. The man was definitely not pleased. At all.

"Yes, sir, I'm aware of that," answered Major Lorne. He'd known he was going to be standing here, in this exact predicament the moment he'd received the order for an escort for the colonel and his group. The only thing he hadn't known was exactly how long it would take, but even he hadn't dreamed it would be within the first five minutes. "Painfully so, in fact. And I can assure you that Walker will be dealt with appropriately. In the meantime, we have begun a search for the missing parties. I'll let you know as soon as we have anything concrete to report."

Woolsey's eyes narrowed. "I do not want a repeat of the fiasco that occurred on their arrival, Major," he warned.

"No, sir," agreed Lorne. "My men have instructions to report any sightings, but are under strict orders not to attempt to apprehend them. We're doing our best not to undermine the progress Doctor Beckett has made regarding their cooperation."

"Hmph. Of course, if they were their normal selves I'd consider their actions a clear revocation of terms. But I suppose that under the present circumstances, certain allowances might have to be made. Though I do believe that certain...consequences must be invoked in order to teach them a lesson. Children must be disciplined, after all."

"But sir, with all due respect, they're not really children. They might be smaller in size and have some memory issues, but deep down underneath all that, they are fully grown adults," protested the major.

Woolsey bristled. "Have you ever heard the old expression, "If it walks like a duck," Major?"

"Yes, sir," he answered dutifully. Lorne had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. His mind's eye was gleefully playing out all sorts of scenarios for when the three culprits were made aware of the expedition head's intentions; none of them bode well for him or his men. "If that's all, I should probably get back to the search now."

"You do that, Major. Dismissed." Woolsey's tone was curt, clearly telling him that all wasn't necessarily forgiven just yet. Still, Lorne wasn't at all sorry that he'd spoken up. He knew to the core of his being that treating the de-aged team as ordinary children was a clear recipe for disaster. He also knew that the fall out would no doubt land completely on his shoulders, but there was no time to worry about that now. He had a trio of small persons to find, after all, and the sooner the better.

Nodding respectfully, he headed for the door. He was surprised to hear Woolsey's voice call after him. "Major? Mistakes won't be looked upon kindly. You'd do well to remember that."

~A~

Down on one of the lesser-used piers, punishment was the last thing on John's, Teyla's, or Ronon's mind.

"Bomb's away!" With a long running start, John flung himself off the end of the pier, curling up into a ball as much as possible to prepare for the impact with the water below. When it came, he knew the splash factor had to have been one of his best ever and wasted no time in heading for the surface to accept his teammates' congratulations.

"Ronon, stop! There is no bomb!" shouted Teyla. "It was only a manner of speaking."

Treading water, John chimed in. "Give it a rest, Short Stuff. Like she said, there's no bomb. It's just something you say when you jump. Sheesh, what's with you anyway?" Swimming over to the makeshift ladder, he nimbly climbed up and easily pulled himself up over the edge. "Who's next?"

"I believe it is my turn next," answered Teyla, shooting a glare at Ronon that dared him to contradict.

"Okay," agreed John. "Ronon, you're up after Teyla, then me again."

Teyla mimicked him, taking a running start. Just before she reached the edge, John called out a reminder. "Remember to stay curled into a ball all the way till you hit the water."

She didn't answer him, but did follow instructions and stayed tucked until after she hit. Even John was impressed with the splash factor, wondering if his own had been that impressive. Ronon quickly dashed that notion, however. "Hey, that was even better than yours."

John glared at him. "Yeah, well, mine would have been real impressive if I wasn't trying to show you guys the right way how to do it."

Smirking, Ronon kept at him. "Maybe if you hadn't used all that air screaming about fake bombs it would have been almost as good as her."

"Yeah, right, whatever. Go on, it's your turn now. Unless you're chicken or something?"

Even as John issued the challenge, Teyla was hauling herself back onto the pier. "Ronon, you must try it," she enthused.

Now scowling, Dex crossed his arms. "I'll go when I'm ready."

"Yeah?" goaded Sheppard. "That gonna be before or after you've grown enough to use that blaster-thing on your own?"

His eyes flashing with anger, Ronon stomped away to give himself plenty of running room. He took a deep breath and, with a determined look, took off running. A primal scream filled the air as he catapulted himself into air and out over the water.

John was relieved to see him scrunch up, worry over whether their disagreement would cause him to be careless evaporating. He hit the water perfectly, sending up an impressive splash in the process. He'd even managed to beat Teyla's effort, which meant the little hairball was going to be lording it over him for all he was worth. "Wow, that was some splash," he grudgingly admitted. "Wouldn't think such a little guy could pull that off."

Teyla shrugged. "Yes, it was bigger than one would have thought possible. Not as impressive as yours, of course," she said. "But quite good, nonetheless."

Frowning, John questioned her. "You wouldn't happen to be trying to butter me up or something, would you?"

She seemed genuinely confused by his question. "Butter you up?"

He mentally kicked himself for again forgetting that his two new friends were totally unfamiliar with most of the idioms and slang he and Rodney were prone to using. "Yeah, you know. Suck up? Use false flattery? That kind of thing?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I would never do such a thing."

John realized his error the moment he finished speaking and quickly tried to back-pedal. "Um, yeah, I didn't mean...I meant...look, it's just that Ronon said that your splash was bigger than mine, but his was bigger than yours and you said mine was more impressive than his, so...um, yeah. I should probably just apologize and shut up now, so, um, sorry."

Ronon picked that moment to pop over the side of the pier and John prepared to lay into him over the deception. The moment he saw the kid's face though, he froze. Ronon was looking past him with an alarmed expression and John suddenly had the overwhelming sense that they were no longer alone. Slowly, he turned around to see who was there.

His stomach lurched at the sight of Carson Beckett, leaning against a stack of crates with his arms folded and an extremely annoyed look on his face. "I think ye already have a pretty good idea of how much trouble you're in," he began. "But it's always best to be certain, don't you agree?"

Without waiting for John's reply, he continued. "Of all the bloody stupid...do ye have even the slightest clue as to how dangerous this little game of yours is? Ye don't even have life preservers, for heaven's sake! If something had happened to one of you, the others wouldn't have been able to do a thing about it."

"That's what the ropes are for," said Ronon, an equally annoyed look on his face. "Sheppard said if anything happened, we could just pull the one in the water up with them."

Carson started to snap at him, but stopped, his eyes traveling the length of the rope tied around the Satedan's waist and pooling on the deck at his feet. From there it snaked over to a lamp post where the other end was tethered. "Oh," he said. "Well, all right, I give ye that one. T'was very clever of ye, lad. But it doesn't change the fact that ye ditched the escort that Mr. Woolsey ordered or the fact that, tether or no, this was a bloody crazy and dangerous thing. I'm fairly certain that I probably don't want to know how you've been getting back up after your little...swim. You've a great deal of explaining to do, my wee young friend."

Defiant, the youngster defended his actions. "We were careful; we used the ropes for tethers and hooked some of those net-things together for a ladder to get back up. You said we should get some fresh air and exercise," he accused. "This is both."

Carson pinched the bridge of his nose, taking a moment to pick his words. "Aye, I suppose I do have to admit that it is indeed. But it's still far too dangerous and I want ye to give me your solemn word that ye won't be trying this again. Or anything else involving the water, for that matter."

Shooting a conspiratorial look at each of his two cohorts, he considered the doctor's words. "What about the outside-fresh-air part?" he asked, eyeing the doctor warily.

Beckett didn't answer right away, and John somehow knew that his first instinct was to say no to that also. Judging by the look on his face and the stiffness of his posture, John suspected that, after seeing the look that had passed between him and Teyla and Ronon, the doctor was nervous. Still, Carson of all people should know that fresh air and a place to run and jump and shout in was a rather essential part of their existence. It took a few moments--John figured that he was considering his options--but Beckett finally came up with a proposal for them. "All right then, how about this? Ye can still be outside, but only on the balconies or close to the inner city. The piers are strictly off limits. And that last is non-negotiable," he added.

Turning to his cohorts, the three youngsters held a silent conversation, speaking only with their eyes in a language that was undecipherable to outsiders. John watched out of the corner of his eye as Beckett shifted from foot to foot. It was obvious that the man's nerves were on edge, prompting a smirk from Ronon who must have been covertly observing also. John suspected the doctor knew they were more than capable of doing pretty much anything they wanted--including disappearing again if they didn't like the restrictions that the grown-ups were attempting to force on them.

Deciding it was finally time to put the man out of his misery, John finally spoke. "Okay, we'll accept your terms," he said. "But we don't want a babysitter. We can look after ourselves--we're not babies and we refuse to be treated like we are."

Carson hesitated, as if carefully choosing his words. "I'm sorry, but I can't promise you anything on that score, lad. Mr. Woolsey has the final say on that one, I'm afraid. What I can do is promise to put in a good word on your behalf, if ye'd like."

John could see Ronon out of the corner of his eye and knew he was about to go off on the doctor when he took a step forward. He extended his arm to keep the little guy in check, but didn't look away from Beckett. "All right, I'll talk to him then. But you'd better tell him that this is also non-negota...non-negotialble."

"Very well, if that's what ye want. But first let's get ye all back inside and dried off before ye catch your death." It was clear that 'no' was not an option, which didn't sit all that well with John. Still, the alternative was to go back into hiding immediately and he wasn't quite ready to do that just yet.

Turning to his friends, he nodded toward the main tower. "Come on, last one inside has to give up dessert tonight." Without giving them a chance to argue, he quickly untied his tether and raced for the door.

~A~


	3. Chapter 3

John found Ronon pacing the hallway off the control room when he finally left Woolsey's office. After checking in both directions, the little guy wasted no time in demanding an accounting of events. "So what'd he say? He agree, or we gonna have to keep dumping the babysitter?"

"Keep it down, will ya? I don't trust him, not yet," said John, careful to keep his voice low. Echoing his friend's caution, he looked both ways down the hall before answering. "He wasn't happy about it, but he finally caved and agreed to can the sitters. In return, we have to stay away from the armory, the labs, the power room, and the lower levels, unless there's an adult with us."

"Why'd you agree to that? Seems like a lot to give up for losing a babysitter we could ditch inside of 5 minutes anyway."

"Ah, but that's not all he gave up. He was planning to _ground_ us for two weeks, too." Seeing the blank look on Ronon's face, he elaborated. "That means he was planning to punish us by restricting us to our rooms without DVDs, Game Boys, or anything else that's fun for the next two weeks."

"Let him. It's not like we can't get out anytime we want anyway."

"I know, but then we'd be on the run again. And I don't know about you, but I kinda like having a soft bed and hot meals. Besides, McKay isn't up to it yet. But don't worry, I made sure Woolsey believes we'd escape before he even had the doors locked, along with a few other things. Trust me, I made sure he thinks he got the best end of the deal. By the time he finds out differently, it's gonna be way too late." John beamed, proud of the deal he'd just brokered.

Ronon wasn't quite so impressed, however. "They still got my blaster. How'm I gonna get it back if we can't go in the armory?"

"Ah," said John. "But that would only be a problem if your blaster was actually back in the armory. Which it isn't."

"Then where is it?"

"Beckett locked it up in the infirmary that first night. It's still there. I checked."

"If it's locked up, then how'd you check?" asked Ronon, suspicion clear in both his tone and expression.

John shrugged. "I went over to the lock-up room to scope things out. For later, you know. I was standing there and then it opened, just like that. So I went in and looked around and there it was."

"When'd you do that?"

Tired of the lingering doubt, he snapped, "Right before I went to see Woolsey while you were getting checked out. Beckett was with Rodney, so I figured it would be a great time to do a little recon. Anymore questions?"

"Just one. How'd you get it to open? It's supposed to be lock-up; seems like it should be hard to get into."

"I don't know," said John. His annoyance was growing by leaps and bounds. "I told you, I was just standing there wondering how I could open it and it...did."

Ronon frowned. "Secure lock-ups don't just open because you think about it. You must have done something else."

"No, I didn't. I told you, I just thought I wanted it to open and then it did."

"Show me."

"No! I'm not gonna show you anything, not yet. I know you well enough to know that if I take you in there now, you won't leave without it and then all my hard work will have been for nothing. Sorry, chief, but you'll just have to wait till the time is right. Now come on, let's go see how Rodney is doing." As far as he was concerned, the discussion was over and he stomped off to the infirmary, not bothering to look back and see that Ronon was following.

~A~

"You jumped _off the pier_? Are you nuts? Do you have any clue how much force would have been generated by the time you hit the water? I could tell you to the exact measurement, but then none of you would understand it anyway so why bother? I can't believe you! What if you'd all been killed? And trust me, you could have easily broken your necks from that height. And where would that have left me, hm? I'll tell you--alone, that's where. All alone in a city of strangers, all of whom are adults and none of whom are anywhere near as smart as I am! Do you have the slightest idea what a nightmare that would be? Well, do you?"

John rolled his eyes. "As a matter of fact, I know exactly how much force was involved and can calculate it for myself, thank-you-very-much. And no one broke anything, aside from a few stupid rules that Woolsey-guy made. Can you believe that he thought he was actually going to ground us?" He shook his head, still irritated at the attitude of the vast majority of the grown-ups and Woolsey in particular.

Rodney crossed his arms, pouting. "Yes, well, at least you aren't stuck in here with people waking you up at all hours to stick needles in you and suck out all your blood. I haven't had this many tests since that time I nearly died after being sprayed with the juice from an orange my sister was peeling. She said it was an accident, but..."

"Yeah, yeah, you're mortally allergic to citrus. You mentioned that already. Several times. An hour." John cut him off before Rodney could really get going. Afraid he'd go right back to what seemed to be his favorite topic, Sheppard quickly offered a distraction. "Hey, I got something for you."

McKay straightened up in the bed, excitement deepening the slight blush to his cheeks from the fever. "Oh? What is it? And if you say lemon pudding or any other version of citrus..."

Not wanting to listen to the citrus allergy lecture yet again, John tossed a backpack onto the bed within Rodney's reach. "Thought you might be getting bored so I snatched that from one of the labs. It even has your name on it," he added.

Rodney's whole face lit up as he pulled a laptop from the bag. "Yes! I can't believe you did this." He looked furtively around the room, eventually turning his attention back to John. "Where can I hide it? I can't let them find out I have it when they come in to suck more blood and stuff. They'll take it away for sure."

John shook his head. "Nah, I cleared it with Carson. As long as you take a break and rest every couple of hours, he's cool with you having it."

"Are you serious?" Judging by the stunned look on his face, Rodney couldn't hardly believe his luck. "I-I don't know what to say. I can't believe you went to all this trouble for me."

John shrugged. "Well it didn't seem right that you're stuck in here while we're out there having all the fun. It's the least I could do."

"Yes, well, that's true. I mean, if you're going to insist on jumping off the pier into freezing-cold water until you break your neck, thereby leaving me alone to fend for myself among all these...grown-ups, then you certainly do owe me. A lot, in fact. And the laptop was a good start, by the way. But don't worry, I'm sure I'll think of a way for you to fully make it up to me before your eventual demise." Already engrossed in booting up the computer, Rodney was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Actually, we've been banned from the pier." John's pout went unnoticed as the newly-acquired machine took priority for Rodney. "So congratulations, you're in total agreement with the grown ups on this one."

That finally got Rodney's attention and he looked up. "Hey! There's no need to get insulting about it. Just because I, unlike some people, happen to have a healthy sense of self-preservation..."

"Yeah, sure, whatever. Listen, I promised Ronon and Teyla that we could go do something after I dropped the computer off, so, y'know, have fun and all. We'll be back after dinner. I hear they're having meatloaf tonight," he offered.

"Really? I love meatloaf. Wonder if they can get mine a little early. I mean, they wouldn't want me to go into hypoglycemic shock, right?"

"Bye, Rodney," called John, already heading for the door. He'd heard more than enough about the other boy's health issues for one day. He'd promised Ronon and Teyla an outing and he knew just what he wanted to do. "Have fun--I'm sure we will."

~A~

"This isn't going to work," said Ronon, kicking the fallen stack of crates in front him. "We're not tall enough."

Though John was loathe to admit it, the other boy was right. "Yeah," he said, disappointed. "Sure would have been fun though." He looked wistfully up the side of the central tower, imagining what it would have been like to scale those walls. There were plenty of hand and foot holds, but none of them were tall enough to have any hope of successfully negotiating the way to the top.

"I am certain we can find something equally exciting and challenging." Teyla seemed to enjoy the role of peacemaker, he thought. She was always trying to smooth things over. He'd be willing to bet a month's allowance that she'd end up being a diplomat or something.

John thought for a moment. A wide grin split his face, telling his two companions that he'd come up with an idea. "Come on, I know just the thing. You're gonna love it."

The two followed, but not before exchanging an uncertain look. Ronon had shrugged and immediately followed along, though Teyla had hung back a moment longer. Though she hadn't said anything, John had the feeling that she wasn't as enthusiastic about their little 'excursions' as he and Ronon were. Maybe it was just a guy-thing, he thought. After negotiating a maze of hallways, careful to avoid notice wherever possible, they finally arrived at their destination.

"What are we doing here?" asked Ronon, looking confused. "We can't fly these things." He paused a moment then looked hopefully at John. "Can we?"

John shrugged. "Well, we probably could, but I think we should wait to try that for another time. Besides, I have something else in mind for today. Something that won't get us into nearly as much trouble," he added.

"Yes," said Teyla. "It would probably be best not to antagonize Mr. Woolsey any further. From what you have told us, he was quite unhappy about our swimming adventures."

"Yeah," agreed John. "As much as I'd love to really teach him a lesson, he's the guy in charge around here, so if we want any freedom at all, we better at least try to stay on his good side. Within reason, of course."

Ronon shifted from foot to foot impatiently. "Okay, so what are we doing here? And where are all the grown-ups?"

More than happy to get to the fun part, John smiled and pointed to the jumpers in front of them. "Who cares where the grown-ups are? As long as they aren't here to stop us, that's all I care about. And I don't know about you, but I'm thinking a multi-level slide ought to be interesting."

Looking skeptical, Ronon tilted his head and stared at the ships. "How we gonna do that?"

"Leave it to me," answered John. "You guys wait over there while I set it up."

After sharing a look that said they thought he was nuts but were willing to go along with his wishes anyway, the two backed away and allowed him go to work. It didn't take long for him get the jumpers into position, maneuvering them the exact way he needed them, and soon he was beckoning his cohorts to join him. "Follow me!"

He climbed to the top of the highest jumper and waited for his two friends to catch up. Once they were all gathered, he pointed to the sloped window. "Who wants to go first?"

"It was your idea. I believe that should warrant you doing the honor," said Teyla. John could tell by her posture that she was anxious to have a turn herself and he appreciated the offer to let him have first dibs.

Ronon, however, wasn't so magnanimous. "I wanna go first this time. He got to go first for swimming. It should be someone else's turn."

John rolled his eyes. "Fine, go for it. And for the record, I only went first for the swimming so I could show you guys how to do cannon balls the right way."

"The more time spent discussing it, the more likely that someone will come in and stop us even before we start." Ever the practical one, Teyla quickly put an end to the discussion by pointing out the obvious.

"Right. Okay, Ronon's first, then you can go, Teyla, and I'll go last." John really didn't mind not going first; what he minded was the implication by his friend that he'd been selfishly trying to hog the inaugural runs for himself.

Ronon didn't need to be asked twice and immediately sat down at the edge. He took a deep breath and pushed off, sliding down the glass. He slowed up when he reached the end of the glass, though not enough to upset his balance, again speeding up upon making it to the second windshield. Springing to his feet when he reached the floor, he turned to wait for his teammates, whooping loudly. "That was awesome! Hurry up so we can go again," he called.

Grinning, Teyla quickly followed his lead and was shortly thereafter standing at the bottom, her face flushed with excitement. "Your turn, John. Ronon is correct--this is quite fun!"

John needed no further encouragement and was soon at the bottom with the other two, laughing as they unanimously voted for another round. "Come on, Teyla's turn to be first this time," he called, already halfway up the side of the top jumper.

Ronon didn't protest this time, but made certain he was second in line after Teyla. Run after run they took turns without complaint, until in the middle of their dozenth or so trip down they heard an almost-familiar voice behind them swear in a foreign language. John somehow knew it was Czech, though he had no idea _how_ he knew that. "You! Come down from there. It is dangerous game you are playing. Come!" demanded the intruder, gesturing wildly and muttering more Czech swear words.

The three youngsters stood atop the jumper, arms folded as they looked down on the spectacle of Radek Zelenka. The longer they ignored his instructions, the more animated he became--and the more fun to watch. At last Ronon leaned over toward the other two, keeping his voice only loud enough to be heard over the commotion below. "Think he's gonna call Woolsey?"

"Probably, answered John. "That or a unit of marines, in which case we'll be right back where we started again."

"We should probably do as he asks," suggested Teyla. "We cannot go back on the run and leave Rodney to their mercy."

"Yeah, there's that." John was silent for a moment as he considered their options. This list was a short one, unfortunately. Teyla was right; they couldn't leave Rodney, especially after his little speech when John gave him the laptop. That left surrender, as much as the thought stuck in his craw. The only real decision was the how of it. An idea began to form in the back of his mind and, grinning at the others, he scrambled over to the front edge of the jumper. With a wicked gleam in his eye, he pointed to their make-shift slide. "He said to come down, but he didn't say how." Letting out a loud war cry, he enthusiastically jumped down onto the windshield and began the sliding trek downward. Grinning madly, Ronon and Teyla eagerly followed.

Once the trio were on the ground floor, a furious Zelenka marched up to them, waving his arms and trying in vain to make the words come. At last, he took a deep breath and held his finger up, half in warning and half to point at the wayward group. "You. You will come with me. Now. You will not say a word and you will not touch anything. At all. You will walk and you will breathe, but you will do nothing else until you are told otherwise. Rozuměl?"

Looking contrite for all of the few moments it took for Radek to turn his back, the trio followed as instructed. The Czech continued to mutter to himself, prompting John and Ronon to exchange a look and snicker loudly. Zelenka stopped abruptly and turned back to face them, glaring and pointing. "Walking and breathing!" he warned. "Nothing else--do not tempt me further or there will be no more breathing and the devil with the consequences!" He did not wait for their answer, stomping off and again muttering in Czech under his breath.

Sharing a triumphant look, the two boys strolled along behind him, still snickering despite the threat. Teyla rolled her eyes at their antics and John mentally added a disgusted "Boys!" to go along with it. She followed them though, and the little group was soon standing in front of Mr. Woolsey's office door.

John couldn't help but feel more than just a little satisfaction at the boss man's expression when he looked up and saw them. While there was a tiny flash of fear there, it was almost instantly hidden by a surge of pure dread. Woolsey quickly slipped his commander's mask in place and put forth a more confident air, but the damage had been done. John had seen his true feelings and was eager to butt heads with the man again--he just knew better than to let that fact show, at least not too early.

Woolsey motioned them inside and Radek held back, shooing the trio of troublemakers in first. The three of them stood in a straight line in front of the desk, waiting for the adults to take the lead this time. "So. You're back again, I see," said Richard.

John stepped forward and hopped up to casually perch on the edge of the desk. "Yeah, so we are. Apparently the crazy mad-scientist-type over there has issues with our choice of recreational activities." He shrugged, giving Woolsey the angelic look that nearly always got him what he wanted and rarely failed to get him out of trouble.

Being called a crazy mad scientist didn't sit well with Zelenka, who immediately started on another tirade of Czech. Woolsey immediately held up a hand to stop him. "Doctor Zelenka, in English please?"

The amount of effort it took for Radek to calm himself and speak in English was so great that everyone in the room could see it and for a moment John actually felt a pang of remorse. Though it took a great deal of concentration, the scientist finally spoke. "I found them in Jumper bay. They-they were _**sliding**_ down windows! We are lucky no damage was done to them," he added indignantly.

"We knew what we were doing," grumbled Ronon, crossing his arms as he glared at the Czech. "Nobody got hurt and nobody was gonna."

Zelenka nearly snarled at him. "I was referring to jumpers, not to-to willful...children!"

The corner of Ronon's mouth twitched as he tried not to smile, but John didn't think anyone besides himself noticed. Woolsey was rubbing his forehead as he studied the desktop in front of him and definitely hadn't caught it. Radek was too focused on his boss while waiting for an answer to see it either. Still, it would be best to divert attention so he quickly jumped into the fray. "We were just trying to have a little fun and besides, it wasn't very high up, not really."

Woolsey pinched the bridge of his nose for a long moment. "Yes, well be that as it may and height issues aside, surely there are far more appropriate and safe things for you to occupy yourselves. A jumper may not be all that tall, but a fall from the top of one would still be quite painful, I'm sure."

"Two!" snapped Radek. "They lined them up to make two levels."

Richard turned a suspicious eye to John, who simply shrugged. "We like a challenge," he answered casually.

Again pinching the bridge of his nose, Woolsey lowered his head. "Yes, I've noticed that," he quipped, finally looking up. "However, I'm afraid I cannot allow this to continue. I'm going to have to insist that you have adult supervision at all times. You've gone too far this time."

John spared a quick look at his teammates and saw that Ronon in particular was about to let Woolsey have it, verbally if not physically. Teyla didn't look happy either, but John knew she'd keep her head and not say things they'd all pay for later. He jumped off the desk and placed both hands on it, arm's width apart. Eyes flashing, he met Woolsey's gaze with a cold stare. "Like I said, we love a challenge. Go ahead and try it. We'll lose whoever you assign within the first half hour--probably less."

His point made, John crossed his arms and relaxed his stance. "Look, we don't want to be unreasonable or anything," he said, cutting Woolsey off before he could even begin. "We will agree to certain...parameters regarding our activities. But that's as far as we'll go. Take it or leave it."

A string of Czech--John was fairly certain it was purely swear words--reminded them that Zelenka was still in the room. "Hooligans! Surely you are not going to allow them to speak to you like this."

"Thank you, Doctor Zelenka, but I can take it from here. I'm certain you have more pressing matters that require your attention?" Though framed in the form of a question, the dismissal was clear even to John.

Far from his usual courteous manner, Radek glared at the three de-aged members of the team, pointing as he backed out of the room. "Keep. Them. Away. Or I will not be responsible for my actions!"

Richard waited until the scientist had gone before returning his attention to the three youngsters. "Now then, where were we? Oh, that's right," he said, not waiting for an answer before continuing. "You were attempting to deliver an ultimatum and I was about to counter with one of my own. So here it is: either you three accept the supervision or you will be confined to quarters for the duration, the exception being those times when Doctor Beckett requires your presence in the infirmary."

"We ain't gonna be treated like helpless babies. Or criminals either." Ronon started toward Woolsey, but John put his arm out to block him, leaving it there to hold his angry teammate back. "And last time I checked, you ain't my father--don't look a thing like him--so you can't tell me what to do."

Woolsey's mouth dropped wide open at the outburst and took a moment before he came back to his senses. His mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth. Shaking his head as if he were clearing his thoughts, he straightened up, puffing his chest out in a show of strength and power. "Now listen here, I will not stand here and be spoken to in such a manner by-by _**children**_!"

"We're...ow!" John kicked Ronon in the shin, effectively stopping him from digging them into a proverbial hole so deep they couldn't get out again. Scowling, the youngster half-limped, half-stomped over to a nearby chair and flung himself in it to sulk.

Once John was certain the other boy was going to keep to their unspoken agreement that John be the spokesman for the group, he turned his attention back to Woolsey. "Okay, let's start over here. Ronon is real sorry for any disrespect he may have shown you." As he spoke, he shot the youngster in question a look that dared him to contradict and Ronon wisely remained silent--aside from a loud snort, of course. John ignored his sulking and continued, knowing he had his work cut out if he were going to have any prayer of salvaging their freedom. "We're all real sorry for any...difficulties...that may have resulted from our...activities. I'm not trying to be a smart ass and I swear I don't mean any disrespect. I'm just being realistic here. You and I both know that it doesn't matter who you try to assign to watch us. We'll lose 'em faster than you can assign 'em. That's not me braggin' or anything, that's just fact. I'm only trying to offer a solution that will save us all the time and aggravation of the babysitter crap since it won't work anyway."

Woolsey was peeved to no end, that much was obvious not only from his expression but from his rigid stance as well. At first John wasn't certain he was going to be reasonable, but then Richard's lips thinned to nearly nonexistent. The look on his face reminded John of someone who'd just eaten a large lemon and it was all he could do to keep from laughing out loud. Schooling his features like a seasoned pro, he waited for the head of the expedition to speak.

The man in question opened and closed his mouth several times before he finally got any words out. "All right then. If we can come to a suitable arrangement, I will consider amending my initial decision to order constant adult supervision for the three of you. But I warn you--all of you--this _is_ your last chance. Assuming we can agree to terms, if there are any further incidents the three of you will be confined to quarters until further notice. Do I make myself clear?"

Ronon had jumped from the chair, obviously intending to argue, but Teyla held him back while John shot him a look that warned of dire consequences should he ignore the unspoken order to back off. To John's relief, he yanked his arm away from Teyla and flopped back into his chair, muttering under his breath about power-hungry dictators. Teyla signaled her agreement with a nod, but he had to wait a moment for Ronon's assent, unsure if the boy was going to make any further trouble.

Once he finally had it, John turned his attention back to Woolsey. "Crystal. Now as to those terms," he began. "I-we would like to propose something of a compromise. We will agree to inform Doctor Beckett where we plan to go and what we plan to do when we're not visiting Rodney or having more testing stuff done on us. And while we don't see what the big deal was all about, we are willing to agree to a no-swimming-off-the-pier or playing-around-by-the-jumpers clause. And we're willing to consider any other stipulations you would like to put forth. Within reason, of course. Right guys?"

A sharp nod signaled Teyla's agreement. A very tense moment later, Ronon more reluctantly nodded his assent as well. Slowly letting out a deep breath, John turned his attention back to Richard Woolsey. "So that's our proposal. That work for you?"

He had to nearly bite his tongue to keep from laughing at the look on Woolsey's face. It was obvious that the man was rattled, almost stunned even. But there was a still an undercurrent of anger that John wanted to be careful to avoid bringing to the fore. Pole-axed was a good word for that expression, he decided.

To his credit, Richard appeared to be seriously considering the proposal. He might be a bureaucrat, thought John, but he was apparently smart enough to realize the truth in John's words. He really hadn't been trying to brag; facts were facts and the fact was that the three of them could and would lose anyone the administrator assigned to shadow them almost instantly.

"I want your word that you will not deviate from the agenda once Doctor Beckett approves it. And I must stipulate that should the good doctor decide your proposed activities are unacceptable for any reason that you will agree to abandon those plans and forego said proposed activities." Woolsey watched him intently, waiting for an answer, but John knew the decision wasn't his alone to make.

"Guys?"

Teyla nodded. "I believe we can agree to those conditions."

John could tell from the look on Ronon's face that he wasn't quite certain what had been proposed and clarified. "He says that we have to agree that if Beckett says no to the stuff we wanna do, then we can't do it." The explanation was accompanied by a look which clearly said that _**John**_ thought it was an acceptable compromise.

The pout deepened as Ronon looked from John to Teyla and back again. John held his breath, waiting for the little guy to finally speak. "Yeah, okay. I'm in."

Hiding a sigh of relief, Sheppard turned back to face Woolsey. "All right, we will agree to your stipulations. So do we have a deal?"

Woolsey sat down in his chair, leaning back as he regarded each of them in turn. By the time he finally spoke, John had begun to worry that he'd changed his mind but had not allowed his concern to show in any way. "Very well then. But I must caution you once again, this _is_ your last chance. If I hear even the slightest hint that you have been up to more mischief, I _will_ confine you all to your quarters."

The three nodded and Ronon climbed out of the chair. "Fine, can we go now?"

"As soon as I have your solemn word that you will abide by our agreement," answered Woolsey, a stern look firmly in place.

John rolled his eyes, but gave his word without further antagonizing the man. "Yeah, sure. We promise."

"Very well then, you may head back to the infirmary now. By the time you arrive, I will have informed Doctor Beckett of our arrangement." With his piece said, Richard opened the folder in front of him and began to read.

Glaring at the man for the abrupt dismissal, John motioned for the other two to follow him and headed for the door. Before he reached the exit, Woolsey's voice drifted after them. "Remember, you gave your word on this. Do not make me regret it."

John ignored him and kept on walking.

~A~

John trudged on through the halls, leading the way to the infirmary. He didn't want to worry the other two, but in truth he wasn't feeling all that well. The beginnings of a headache had started on the way to Woolsey's office and had grown steadily worse as the discussions went on. He'd have to figure out a way to get something from Carson for it--without prompting an entire battery of tests and landing him in a bed next to Rodney's, of course.

At that moment, a group of scientists blocked their path, pushing a large piece of equipment that did who knew what and an even larger skid full of boxes and other containers. John, Teyla, and Ronon were forced to move off to the side as the adults reached them, having to back up flush against the wall as the group drew close.

A loud curse came from the leader of the group as a box went flying off of the second skid, scattering papers and files across the entire passageway. A second box followed, this one containing crystals and other mechanical-type bits and pieces. John banged his head against the wall, realizing they were stuck until the mess was cleaned up.

"You kids stay where you are," instructed one of the men. "We'll have this cleaned up in a jiffy--just don't move or you might step on something and hurt yourselves."

"We're supposed to go straight to the infirmary," snapped Ronon. "You're gonna get us in trouble."

One look at the startled scientist and John stepped in to head off the potential shouting match. "Look, just call Woolsey and tell him what happened and that we're gonna be a little delayed getting to Beckett's office."

"Oh, right, of course. Yes, I can do that." He quickly tapped his earpiece, but John toned out the conversation, trusting that the man would take care of it. Instead, he leaned his head back against the wall again and waited. As the moments passed, John began to wish more and more for that tylenol. He ignored the pounding in his skull as best he could and tried to think of other things. The harder he tried to think, the worse the pounding became. He sank to the floor, propping his arms on his knees and resting his aching head on them.

He could hear the conversations going on around him, the words no more coherent than the annoying buzz of an insect. He didn't bother try to follow any of it, instead retreating to a place in his head where the noise did not exist. The ever-present feeling in the back of his mind was still there, but it was separate and distinct, not at all part of the headache or its cause.

"Colonel Sheppard!" John was brought out of his thoughts by the head of the scientists. John thought his name was Markowitz but he had no idea how he knew that; regardless of what his name was, he was kneeling on the floor in front of John, shaking him until John thought his teeth might start rattling.

John pushed him away, an angry frown crossing his face. "Knock it off! What did you go and do that for anyway?"

"I'm sorry. It's just that you were, well, I'm afraid you zoned out on us for a moment there. And your teammates couldn't rouse you, so we were all a bit worried you see. Are you certain you're all right?" The man looked genuinely worried, which was a good thing really. Because otherwise John was pretty certain that Doctor Markowitz would have found himself a victim of Ronon's blaster. Not right away, of course, but it wouldn't take much effort at all to liberate the weapon from lockup.

"I was just waiting for your people to get done with the cleanup, that's all," he answered testily.

"That is what we were trying to tell you. The work has been finished and it is time to go." Teyla's expression was a mix of worry and exasperation. A quick glance over at Ronon found the youngster echoing the concern.

John was certain that they were teasing, but when he looked around he found the hallway empty, with no sign of the accident or the people and equipment involved. Stunned, he pushed himself to his feet and attempted to brush off the incident. "I knew that," he lied. "I was just...resting. That's all. Come on, if you're so worried about getting in trouble then let's get going." Without waiting for them to answer, he pushed himself away from the wall and resumed the trek to the infirmary. No one saw his grimace as the throbbing in his head continued unabated.

The rest of the journey was uneventful and the trio soon found themselves entering the medical wing. John knew his companions expected him to head straight for Carson but instead of turning off to head for Beckett's office he kept right on going.

"Hey, this isn't the way. We should have turned back there." Ronon wasted no time in calling him on it, which didn't surprise John in the least given what had transpired in Woolsey's office.

Smirking, John looked back over his shoulder. "You can go that way if you want. I'm going this way."

"Beckett's office..."

"Isn't where I'm headed. I'm going to check on Rodney first. You can come with or not, your choice."

Ronon shrugged. "Works for me. I'm not in a hurry to get yelled at again either."

Teyla looked a bit uncertain, but nodded her agreement also. Smiling, John waved them forward and made his way straight to McKay's bedside. Unsurprisingly, they found him industriously tapping away on the screen of his computer. "Hey," called John, expecting a snarky comeback.

Rodney kept on working, however, not acknowledging him at all. Concluding he hadn't heard him, John tried again. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Oh. You're back," replied the other boy, still not looking up from his tablet for even a moment. "Press the button and call the minions, will ya? I'm kinda busy at the moment and they wanted to know as soon as you showed up again."

Crossing his arms, John glared at Rodney. He made no move to comply with the request, but that didn't seem to phase the boy in the least; Rodney just kept right on tapping on his computer. Moments passed until finally Rodney broke the silence. "Fine, but just remember I'm not the one who's in hot water around here again. I mean really, what did you expect when you decided to turn the jumpers into playground equipment? Personally, I'd press that button if I were you."

John wasn't impressed with the speech and continued to glare at him, arms still crossed as he tried to ignore the constant pounding in his head.

"I'll do it." Ronon nimbly hopped onto the bed and pushed the button, grinning down at him. "Might as well get it over with," he explained.

In truth, John had figured Teyla would be the one to step in and smooth things over. He hid his surprise well though, which wasn't hard given how irritated he was at both the situation and at Rodney for being so...Rodney. And at Ronon, too, he thought. For butting in and forcing John's hand, but mostly for being right about it. Massaging his temples, he decided not to push it, knowing he'd need his energy for facing Carson. "Fine. If you're so anxious, you can just do the talking this time."

Much to John's irritation, the youngster shrugged, grinning. "If that's the way you want it. I'll have to tell them about what happened in the hallway on the way here though."

"What? What happened in the hallway?" Ronon's threat finally prompted Rodney to look up from his computer.

"Nothing," said John tersely. "Bunch of scientists spilled papers and stuff all over the hallway so we had to wait for them to clean it up. Then we came here. End of story."

"You forgot the part where they all left and you just stayed sitting there with your eyes closed and wouldn't look at us when we told you they were gone."

"I told you, I was resting my eyes," snapped John, shifting his glare from Rodney to Ronon.

"Then why didn't you answer anybody till that science guy shook you hard enough to scramble your brains?" Ronon hopped down from the bed, going right up to John and standing toe-to-toe.

"He didn't have to do that! He could have just, you know, tapped me on the shoulder or something."

Teyla firmly but quietly pulled Ronon back before the situation deteriorated any further. "But he did, John. Several times," she added. "And so did we. You did not respond to any of us. We were becoming quite concerned."

"All right," interrupted Rodney. "'Fess up. What was really going on with you? And don't even try to gloss over it. This could be important--I really need to know what was happening so I can determine if it's related to what I found or not."

Rolling his eyes, John finally confessed. "All right, all right. I was just resting my eyes, like I said. And I started thinking about this kinda weird thing that's been going on ever since we got here. It's kinda like a...tickle...sort of. Like inside the back of my mind."

Rodney immediately went back to his computer, instantly engrossed in whatever it was he had been doing before they arrived. "Oh, that. It's nothing really. The other two probably have no idea what you're talking about, but that's because it doesn't affect either one of them. It's because you're the magic-gene man...er, boy." Rodney tossed out the explanation as casually as possible.

Unimpressed with the explanation, John crossed his arms petulantly. "I have no idea what you're talking about. What the heck is a 'magic-gene man/boy--whatever?" he demanded, shooting a piercing look at Rodney.

McKay paused a moment, looking up from his keyboard. "Well, while the three of you were off causing your usual unique brand of chaos and mayhem, I was actually working here. And I've found some very interesting things along the way, let me tell you." Grinning smugly, he stopped, obviously waiting for someone to beg him to explain further.

John, however, wasn't in the mood for petty games. His headache was growing by the moment and he wanted answers before Beckett got there. "Spill it, Rodney. We don't have time for games. What have you found and where? And what the heck is a magic-gene-whatever?"

Rodney crossed his arms, looking very unhappy about losing the upper-hand. "Fine, but first I want you to answer a question for me. Do you feel in any way older than you appear to be? I mean, do you just somehow know stuff that you probably shouldn't know, given that you appear to be ten? Or less, as the case may be."

"Enough Rodney! Didn't I just say we don't have time for this?" snapped John. His headache was making him irritable and he definitely wasn't in the mood for playing twenty questions. "And what do you mean 'appear to be ten'? I _am_ ten."

Ronon, for a change, was more than willing to play along with McKay. "Sheppard does. Knows stuff that he can't explain, I mean. He said he just thought that he wanted the secure lockup in the infirmary to open and it did."

Squirming uncomfortably, John wasn't ready to admit anything just yet. "That's not what he means."

Ignoring his protest, Rodney nodded. "I'm not surprised. That would be his uber-strong magic gene at work."

"Hello! _**He**_ is right here, you know. And he doesn't appreciate being talked about like he's not. Now are you going to tell us what's going on or what? And for the last time, what's all this crap about magic genes?" Rubbing his temples against the increasingly severe pounding, he waited for the explanation he'd requested before the discussion had gone off track and out of his control.

"Fine," said Rodney. His tone said he was clearly affronted, but he couldn't resist the temptation to brag about his genius and answered anyway. "The truth is, we aren't kids. Not really. You are actually Lieutenant Colonel John Sheppard, an officer in the USAF and military commander of this facility. And you're not ten, you're over forty years old. We're all adults, all four of us. We were transformed into children while investigating an Ancient facility on another planet. And before you get all argumentative, that thing they pulled us into to bring us here? That's called a stargate and it instantly transports people from one planet to another via means of a stable wormhole. And what's even more incredible? We're not on Earth. We're not even in the Milky Way galaxy. We're in the Pegasus galaxy and those two are natives. And what's more, this city? It's the lost city of Atlantis!"

"McKay," warned John. "So help me..."

"He is correct about one thing, John," offered Teyla. "I am from the Pegasus galaxy. I have not heard of this place Earth of which he speaks. Nor am I familiar with a galaxy called the Milky Way."

"Yeah, what she said." Ronon, like Teyla, appeared more curious than flustered by the mind-blowing revelations.

John was about to question them further, but caught movement at the end of the ward out of the corner of his eye and cautioned them to silence. "Beckett's coming, so cool it for now."

Moments later, Carson approached his bed. "I heard ye finally made it back. So. Using the jumpers for a slide, were ye?" Beckett shook his head. "What were ye thinking? Ye had to know that there would be trouble over a stunt like that," he admonished.

"We already got the third degree and smack-down from Woolsey, so spare us already. We agreed we'd clear our plans with you and everything, which I'm sure you already know." His bad mood was doing nothing to alleviate the pain in his head. Without even realizing what he was doing, John reached up and rubbed his forehead.

"What's this now? Ye look a wee bit pale there, lad--are ye in pain?"

He thought about denying it, but the pounding in his head begged for a good dose of painkillers. "Some," he admitted. "It's not too bad though."

Frowning, Beckett sought clarification. "All right, well, on a scale of one to ten, with ten being the worst possible pain ye can imagine, what number would ye give it now?"

"Two." John didn't hesitate in his answer, though he did shave a few numbers off of the true rating.

Carson looked skeptical, but didn't argue with him. "Oh, well then I don't expect ye'll need anything for the pain, will ye?"

He thought about saying no, but need won out over the temptation to spite the doctor. "Well, I guess I could take some tylenol or something. In case it gets worse or anything."

"Hm. Well, as a rule, I don't like to medicate unless it's absolutely necessary. So maybe we should just wait and if it gets worse then we can give ye something to help."

Scowling, John retracted his earlier assessment. "Okay, so maybe it's really a three." Carson raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. "Fine, but four is as high as I go," insisted the youngster. "So can I have some tylenol or not?"

The doctor appeared to consider the question for a moment, but agreed to the request, much to John's relief. "Aye, if it's that bad then we'll get ye fixed right up with something as soon as we do a quick vitals check." Gesturing to the bed next to Rodney's, he waited for John to hop up and get settled. He then quickly set about gathering the needed information, frowning at the thermometer reading as he jotted some notes. "Well, it appears ye've got a wee fever going here. But not to worry, I'm certain it's nothing serious. The medication should help with that also. Now if ye'll excuse me, I'll go see to that for ye."

Moments later, a nurse appeared with the prescribed dosage. "Doctor Beckett said to tell you that you're to wait right here for him and that he'd be back to see you in a few hours. He was called away on an important matter," she explained.

John obediently downed the pills and handed back the empty cup. She remained by the bed, as if waiting for something, so he obediently lay down on top of the covers and smiled up at her before closing his eyes, pretending he was going to sleep. Moments later, he heard her speak to Rodney. "Doctor Beckett also wanted me to inform you that he's going to confiscate the computer if you don't live up to your agreement and get some rest. Your fever is up slightly again and he doesn't want you overdoing it."

"Fine," grumbled McKay. John heard him power down the computer though, so Rodney apparently wasn't arguing for once.

John waited for what seemed like a long time for someone to sound the all clear. Finally, Ronon's voice broke the silence. "Okay. She's gone."

Immediately sitting up, he motioned for Ronon and Teyla to pull the curtains around the beds. Once that was accomplished, he got straight down to business. "Okay, Rodney. For now let's just assume what you've told us so far is true--tell us the rest of it. I'm still waiting to hear what all this magic-gene stuff is about. And no games," he warned. "There's no telling how long till we get more unwanted company."

McKay was already re-powering the notebook. "All right, but give me a minute here. I need to look at the files again and then I'll tell you everything," he said ominously.

"What files?" asked John, his suspicion levels rising rapidly.

Rodney rolled his eyes. "Woolsey's, of course. I've already had a look at the personnel files, too. Beckett's will be next."

"Mr. Woolsey will not be pleased if he finds out we have been accessing his files," warned Teyla.

"Gee, no kidding. I would have never thought of that myself, what with me being a genius and all," he snapped. "Of course he wouldn't, which is why I made sure to cover any trace of my activities. No one will suspect a thing or my name isn't Mer...Doctor Rodney McKay."

A sudden beep from the machine saved Rodney from further inquires about his apparent near slip, but John made a mental note to pursue the matter at a more opportune time. "Aha, there. I'm in. It's like taking candy from a baby, I tell you. Now let me just finish reading this last report..." McKay's eyes flew rapidly back and forth over the screen as he scanned the contents of the file.

John's patience was nearly at an end when Rodney suddenly turned to him, his face paler than the sheets and his eyes wide with fear. "He's-he's...th-they're going to send us back to Earth. You and me, I mean. Because obviously there's no reason to send the others...John! Th-they think we're-we're gonna...die! F-from what the machine did to us. This can't be happening! I-I'm not ready to die yet. I-I've barely started down my list yet. I mean I haven't won the Nobel Prize or-or made a discovery that's changed life as we know it or anything! And-and there's other stuff, too. I haven't even...well, actually I might have but I just don't remember it, but I should at least remember whether or not I ever..." He stopped long enough to look over at Teyla, blushing profusely as he did so.

Having heard enough of the rant, John seized the opportunity to take control of the conversation. "Focus, Rodney! Why do they think we're going to die? Does it have something to do with the fevers or is it something else? We need more intel, buddy. We have to make some plans here--and the sooner the better, from what you've told us so far."

Much to his relief, Rodney latched onto the opportunity to channel his fears into a more productive outlet. "Beckett's files," he mumbled. "We need to get into...there, that's one...oh for the love of...remind me to have a talk with a certain someone about passwords when I'm...me--the older me...again...and then we just need to..." With each pause, Rodney tapped on the screen, moving ever-closer to his destination. Once the last layer of security had been breached, he looked up at the others triumphantly. "I'm in! And don't even say it--of course I made sure no one will ever know I-we were there."

"That's good, Rodney," enthused John. "You did real good. Now what's it say about us?"

"Oh, right. Let me just..." Muttering to himself as he went, Rodney set about locating the files they wanted.

"Ronon, you and Teyla should keep watch. We can't take the chance that someone might walk in unannounced while we're...investigating--and don't look at me that way," he snapped. "I'd do it myself, but I think my being out of bed would probably end up drawing the exact attention that we're trying to avoid."

Dex scowled, but moved to the opening in the curtains as instructed. "If you'd grabbed my blaster from the lockup, there wouldn't be any question of anybody getting close enough to hear anything," he grumbled.

"Ronon, you cannot go around stunning everyone you meet," scolded Teyla. "And in any case, eventually the stun would wear off and your blaster would be confiscated--again. It would serve very little purpose other than to cause us more trouble."

"Thank you, Teyla. I'm glad _someone_ around here can be logical besides me." Before John could say more, a panicked Rodney interrupted.

"Oh no. No, no, no, no, this cannot be happening." His eyes even wider with fear than before, he delivered the rest of his findings in true Rodney-fashion. "We are so screwed! According to Beckett's files, I've only got a few more days left--tops. And you, my friend," he said, pointing at John. "You are not far behind. He thinks Teyla and Ronon might have a few more weeks, but he doesn't know for sure why it's not affecting them as acutely. For the moment, he's operating on the assumption that it's tied to the ATA gene somehow, though he hasn't been able to pinpoint the correlation just yet. Because let's face it, yours is a lot stronger than mine, or so this says. And if that's true, then you should be the one on the oh-so-minute short list of impending death here instead of me. Not that it really matters all that much--bottom line is that we're all gonna be dead within a couple of weeks, and some---namely me and John--sooner than others."

Ronon shrugged, continuing to watch for possible threats. "So fix it. You're supposed to be a genius; figure out how that machine-thing changed us. Then we go back and make it undo it."

Rodney crossed his arms petulantly. "Oh, yes, of course it's just that simple. Why hasn't anyone thought of that before? Oh wait, my mistake--they have. That's why an entire team of scientists has been studying and working on the thing ever since they brought us here and, by the way, they've made virtually no progress on it. At all. But hey, no sweat, I'll just snap my magic-gene-fingers and..." His eyes went wide and he stopped mid-sentence, snapping his fingers several times before going back to the computer. "Unless..." He tapped the device, his hands rapidly manipulating the screens as he went through the data displayed.

John tried to allow him the time to work, but his patience had finally reached its limits. "Talk to me, Rodney. What's going on? And you still haven't told me what this magic-gene crap is about--and what's this ATA thing? I need some answers here so I--we--can figure out what to do next."

"Hm?" Rodney finally looked up from his computer, appearing to have forgotten that anyone else was in the room with him. "Oh, um, well, it's actually the same thing. ATA means 'Ancient Technology Activation' gene. Basically, it allows a person to control the Ancient--that's the name of the race, by the way, not a descriptor of age, though I suppose both would probably be accurate..."

"Rodney," warned John.

"Oh, right. Um, anyway, as I was saying, it's a very rare and very special gene that allows a person to mentally activate and use or control Ancient technology. And you, my friend, have it in spades. Which is so not fair, by the way. Beckett has apparently used your gene as the basis to engineer a gene therapy treatment which has only been successful in about half the subjects he's administered it to--including yours truly, which is why I can do almost anything you can do, just not as...hey! Wait a minute--that means that technically you're responsible for my imminent demise!"

"Can we just stick to the explanations and figure out what course of action we need to take here?" asked John testily. "You can lob accusations and play the blame game *after* we figure out a way to save ourselves, okay? Now let's get back to business. I know that look you got a few minutes ago, so tell us what you were working on."

"Yes, well, before I was so rudely interrupted," said Rodney huffily, "I got to thinking that maybe the machine needed that ATA gene that I was just telling you about to activate. From what I can tell, they haven't really taken that into account in their study yet. Well, I mean they did, just not...look, do you really want the technical explanation or will a simple 'I think I know how to fix it' work for you? Because the more time I waste explaining things that you won't understand anyway, the less likely it is that I'll actually be able to finish writing the program I'll need to fix us before I...die. Which I'd really, really rather not do just yet, if it's all the same to you."

A stern glare let Rodney know that John was not amused at his antics, but he let the matter drop and got straight down to business. "Okay, Rodney, you work on the program to reverse the machine; Teyla, Ronon, you guys need to keep watch. Somebody comes, Rodney, you toss me the computer and pretend to be asleep. Open that chess game you have on there and I'll act like I've been playing it."

"What? No! This a delicate piece of equipment, not some sports object that you can toss around with little regard for its integrity, I'll have you know."

"I know that! But if it gets confiscated then we're totally screwed because you won't be writing anything to save anyone--yourself included there, buddy. And as you so _politely_ pointed out, we don't have a lot of time here, so powering down and rebooting who knows how often isn't exactly going to improve the odds now, is it?"

"Well, no," conceded Rodney. "All right, I'll toss it to you--but just...be careful with it, will ya? If it's dropped and we lose whatever I've managed to accomplish..."

"Fine, I'll be careful and so will you. Now you get to work writing that program and we'll...we'll be here if you need us." He half-expected Rodney to argue, but much to John's relief, the other boy simply nodded and got down to business.

~A~

* * *

**Note:** Rozuměl = understood?


	4. Chapter 4

With the noise of the computer to lull him, John settled back into the bed and closed his eyes. Sleep wasn't an option though, not with the whirlwind of his thoughts that Rodney's revelations had provoked. First, there was the fact that he was supposed to be a forty-something adult who was an officer in the USAF. It seemed totally absurd. For one thing, his father wouldn't have stood for it--no way was his eldest going to do something so totally mundane as joining the service, no matter which branch. No, Patrick Sheppard had been very clear from an early age that John would be expected to take over the family business when the time came for him to retire.

On the other hand, practically since he'd been old enough to walk there was only one thing that _**John**_ had wanted to do--and that was fly. Even now, he could feel the lure of the blue skies calling to him. But how had he ever managed to defy his father like that? Patrick would have disowned him, of that he had no doubts. Did he really have the courage to walk out on him and Dave without a backward glance? Somehow, he doubted that.

And then there was the part about the ATA magic-gene-stuff. It was like something straight out of a bad B-movie. And yet...there was that constant little hum in the back of his mind that never seemed to go away. It was like it was calling to him, trying to lure him away to another part of the city where he could join with it completely. And as much as he tried to deny it, Ronon had been right about the secure lock up. He had a strong suspicion that he could go wherever he wanted in this city and the city would let him in--secured area or not.

The more he thought about these things, the worse his headache became. He had no option but to grin-and-bear-it though, as he couldn't stop thinking, nor would he call for a nurse to ask for more medication. Asking for more meds would likely bring far more trouble than discovery of McKay's efforts. They'd want to do all manner of tests and stuff that he really didn't want to think about, let alone experience.

"Someone's coming." Ronon's voice was low, but urgent. John immediately sat up, turning to catch the laptop.

To his surprise though, Teyla was standing next to his bed with the machine in question extended toward him. "I thought perhaps it might be easier and safer to pass it between us. Besides, you will need an opponent for your game, will you not?"

Grinning, John took it from her and quickly brought up the game, which Rodney had already opened. "I could play the computer, but it'll be more fun to have a real person to play against."

Before anyone could say more, the nurse breezed back around the curtains. "All right, Doctor McKay, hand it..."

She stopped short, stunned to find Rodney apparently sleeping. "Oh. I'm sorry. I just assumed..."

John smiled up at her, an angelic look on his face. "Me and Teyla decided to play a game while he's asleep. I'm teaching her how to play chess," he announced proudly.

The woman seemed to want to argue, her suspicions clear in both her expression and her attitude. "I'm surprised that he'd allow you to use his computer. He can be a bit...territorial about things."

"Yeah, we kinda noticed that. But we're his friends and he trusts us," said John, keeping his tone and expression to that of innocence personified. "Besides, he owes me after I beat him last night."

Rodney coughed, but continued to feign sleep in a fairly believable manner--much to John's relief. The nurse appeared to want to pursue the matter, but ultimately settled for a stern warning. "Well, just don't be overdoing things yourself. You're also running a fever now and need to rest."

"Okay," John agreed amiably. "But I just woke up a little while ago and I'm not tired yet. I'll try to sleep again once Teyla gets the hang of it a little better. A couple more games, tops," he offered.

The woman seemed to know she was being had, but she didn't protest. Probably because he really hadn't given her anything to object to, he thought. "All right, I suppose that will be acceptable. But I'll be back to check on you," she warned. "So don't think you're going to pull one over on me."

"Oh, we wouldn't dream of it," assured John. From the scowl that appeared on her face, he thought that he'd gone too far for a moment, but then she whirled around and stormed off.

"That was awesome," enthused Ronon. "But you'd better be careful--I think she's got it in for you for some reason."

"Yeah," he agreed, handing the computer to Teyla to deliver back to Rodney. "Wonder what bug crawled up...um, I mean, wonder what's bugging her? It's not like I've done anything to her. Yet," he added.

"You're just pissed because she sees through that schoolboy charm you're oozing all over the place, unlike some people," grumbled Rodney.

"I'm not the one who's pissed around here," countered John. "And I'm not the one who got beat at chess last night either," he added. "Which is the only reason you're siding with her and we both know it."

Before Rodney could reply, Teyla stepped in to make peace between them, a task that she was rapidly tiring of if the look on her face was any indication. "Perhaps it would best to leave this discussion for another time and concentrate on the more pressing matter of getting the machine to work in reverse?"

McKay didn't answer, but he did return his attention to the machine in front of him. "I still want a rematch," he griped.

Snickering, John couldn't stop himself from replying. "Anytime, Rodney. I'll never tire of watching you eat your words."

Teyla and Ronon exchanged a knowing look, but said nothing. Ronon tilted his chair back into the main aisle and once again took up his watch. Teyla settled into the chair between his and Rodney's beds, busying herself with some book that John didn't know the name of and didn't care to find out. Satisfied that all was in order for the moment, John settled back into the pillows to continue his contemplation of their situation. A very short time later, he drifted off to sleep.

~A~

When John next awoke, it was to find Ronon and Teyla watching him, a grave expression on their faces. "What?" he demanded. "What's happened?"

His eyes followed theirs to the next bed, where Rodney lay amid a myriad of monitors and tubes attached to his unmoving body. "No! Damn it! Did he finish? Did he get the program done before...why didn't somebody wake me up?" he asked, his eyes flashing with anger.

"Nothin' you could do," answered Ronon. "Besides, the doc was here and he said not to wake you. Teyla was gonna," he added, "but he stopped her."

"We did not wish to compromise your health as well," she added. "I do not believe that he was finished when he...when he lost consciousness." Her eyes were full of compassion, yet they were also desperate. "You are the only hope we have now of reversing the process that was done to us."

"Me? No way! In case you hadn't noticed, I'm not a genius and I'm sure as heck not a scientist. No, no way. I can't do it." His mind was whirling, trying to find a reasonable solution to the problem--one that did _not_ involve him playing Bill-Nye-The-Science-Guy, or any other version thereof. "Wait a minute, where's the computer? Let me see how far he got," demanded John.

Teyla passed the machine to him and he quickly booted it up. "Did they say how long he has?" he asked, waiting for it to bring up the program screen. When neither answered him, he looked up, glaring at them. "Well? Did they or didn't they?"

"They refused to say directly, but Ronon overheard some of them talking." She paused, her eyes filling with tears. "Mr. Woolsey told Major Lorne that he likely has less than 48 hours until he...until it is too late."

Stunned, John looked down at the screen, not seeing what it told him for several long moments. At last, he looked up at them, determination radiating from every part of him. "Okay, so I guess we find a way to finish this and get us all back to the place where they have the machine. Because there is no way Rodney is gonna die. We are **not** going to allow that to happen. Everyone clear on that?"

The other two shared an uncertain look, but nodded. "Of course. Just tell us what you need us to do and we will see to it."

"Yeah, what she said," echoed Ronon.

John watched them for a moment, gauging the seriousness of their commitment. Satisfied with what he saw, he wasted no time issuing orders. "Okay. Well, for starters, we're going to need to figure out a way to sneak out of here. I need to go to that room we saw with the chair-thing in it. If I'm right, that's where we'll find the answers we need to get us back to the way we were before."

Ronon shook his head. "They aren't gonna let you out of here after what happened to him," he said, pointing to Rodney. "Maybe me and Teyla can get it if you tell us how."

"I would gladly assist in any way, but I fear this something that John will have to do himself, is it not?" Teyla appeared calm and collected, but John could feel her underlying concern and anxiety.

"I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who can operate the chair. That ATA gene thing Rodney was talking about? I'm pretty sure you need that to operate the chair and neither of you guys have it." Picking absently at the cover underneath him, John avoided looking either of them in the eye.

"Okay. So we need to figure out the best way to get you out of here without being noticed." Ronon didn't protest or question John's explanation, even though it was based more on intuition than fact. John wasn't certain if he should feel flattered or frightened that the two had such trust in him.

Shaking himself out of his thoughts, John realized that he had to step up and be the leader they wanted, that they needed. "Okay. Here's what we're going to do. You two start thinking about some possible escape plans while I see if I can figure out how close Rodney got to finishing. If we don't have a complete program, then getting to the chair room will be a moot point. Maybe if Rodney got far enough, that Radek guy can figure it out and take it from there and we'll still have a chance at getting everyone out of this."

Nodding, the two moved off and began to discuss the situation in earnest--whispering to avoid being overheard, John was pleased to note. He watched as they'd moved to the end of the curtains to ensure they'd be able to see anyone approach, also to his approval. Satisfied with their efforts, he shot a quick, worried glance at Rodney before turning his full attention to the screen in front of him.

To his surprise, he understood far more of McKay's work than he'd anticipated. Unfortunately, he hadn't a clue as to whether it was complete and if not, how to go about finishing the thing. He read it through several more times, grasping more of it with each successive reading. He was no closer to finding the answers, but he now felt confident enough to explain to Radek what Rodney had been trying to do. Surely a scientist would be able to determine if it was done or not, he thought. Maybe he could even finish it if it need be.

Setting the computer to the side, he rubbed his eyes and massaged his temples. The ever-present headache had ratcheted up a few more notches while he was reading, but time was running out and there was no time to dwell. "Okay, what's the plan?" he asked, looking first to Ronon and then to Teyla.

"We go at night," said Ronon. "Less people to deal with."

Teyla nodded in agreement, but her expression clearly indicated that this was as far as the accord reached. "Ronon insists that he can stun everyone in the infirmary before an alarm is raised. I feel that there are...other ways which would be better suited to ensure our success. We could use a stun grenade, or knock out gas, or any number of other things that would affect them all at the same time." Not backing down for an instant, she matched his glare and held it. "Your way leaves far too much chance for one of them to sound an alarm."

"Keep working on it," instructed John, throwing back the covers. "I'm sure we can come up with something that works for all of us." Hopping down off the bed, he grabbed the laptop and headed for the opening in the curtains.

"Hey, wait. Where you going? You're not supposed to be out of bed; they'll stop you and take that away for sure."

John paused, grinning at Ronon. His eyes danced with mischief as he revealed his plan. "I'll tell them I'm going to the bathroom. And if they try to take it, I'll just have to make them reconsider."

"How will you do that?" asked Teyla.

"Easy. I'll just act like I'm gonna cry and tell 'em that I promised Rodney I wouldn't let it out of my sight. Protect it with my very life and stuff, you know? And I can even do real tears if I have to. Girl...um, I mean, women are suckers for that kinda crap."

Teyla wasn't happy with him, judging by the look on her face, but he didn't have time to deal with it. After they were big again and the whole mess was behind them, he thought, then he'd apologize. As much as she wanted him to, in fact. Which was probably going to be a lot, because he had the distinct impression that in her eyes, he'd apparently been doing and saying a ton of stupid things over the last few days. But that would have to wait because right now he had a whole lot more important stuff to do--and very little time to do it. "So. The Plan, remember? Work on it," he called, heading for the far end of the ward.

"Notice he never said where he was going?" As he turned the corner, John heard Ronon complaining to Teyla. He knew from the volume that it was more meant for his own ears than for hers though, and he couldn't help but smile.

It didn't take him long to reach his destination. The hour was late and he easily avoided the on-duty personnel until, at last, he stood hesitantly in front of the doorway. It hadn't been his original destination and he wasn't entirely certain how or why he'd ended up there. But now that he was standing before this particular door, it felt like the right thing to do. In fact, the more he considered the matter, the more certain he was that this was the best course of action. Checking on the computer tucked under his arm, he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the control. He thought the word 'open' at it, but the barrier remained firmly closed.

Frowning, he concentrated harder, willing the stubborn lock to open. Sweat beaded on his forehead, the creases deepening. Giving it one final burst of concentrated thought, he was relieved to hear the mechanism engage and the door slide open.

The room was dark inside; its lone occupant fast asleep on the bed. John silently crossed the room to stand over him, debating on the best way to awaken him and present his case. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. His legs began to feel wobbly and he sank into a nearby chair to avoid collapsing completely, still clutching the computer tightly to his chest. A minute, he thought. He just needed a minute.

"John? Is that you, lad?" Carson threw off his blanket and brought the lights up just enough to see more clearly. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes and stretching, he yawned. "What in the name of heaven are ye doing out of bed and how did ye get in here?"

John didn't answer him immediately, staring down at the computer while he tried to sort his thoughts. Before he even realized he was speaking, the words were out. "We know."

"Oh? And what is it exactly that ye think ye know?"

Scowling, John looked up to meet his gaze at last. "All of it. We know about the device, about us really being adults and not kids, about how Woolsey plans to ship us off to Earth away from Ronon and Teyla--and we're not going, by the way--and how..." He paused, his expression changing from angry to fearful and back again. "We know that Rodney's going to die soon. And that the rest of us won't be far behind, especially me." His eyes flashed with defiance, daring Beckett to contradict him.

"I see," said the doctor, not sounding at all surprised. He seemed unable to look John in the eye now, instead studying the fabric of his blanket as he picked at it. "Well. I wondered how long it would take Rodney to find a way in. Honestly, I didn't think it would take him as long as it did. I was actually kind of hoping that he'd find a solution to the problem of reversing the process before he...well, let's just say I'd hoped he'd find it sooner."

"He did."

That brought the Scot's head whipping up again in a flash. "He did? Do ye have it with ye? I'll need to get this to Mr. Woolsey as soon as possible so a mission can be scheduled. We don't have a moment to lose here."

"We need to show Zelenka first." Seeing Beckett's confused expression, he elaborated. "We aren't sure if Rodney got it finished or not before he...before the coma. We'll need for Radek to figure out if it's complete or not and maybe finish the last part of it if it isn't already done."

"May I see?" asked Carson.

Nodding, John powered up the unit and handed it to the doctor. "Rodney said that it had something to do with the ATA gene triggering it, but Zelenka and the other adults weren't looking at it from the right angle. He said it was complicated and didn't want to waste time explaining it, but I was looking at what he's done so far and I kind of understand it. So I think Zelenka should be able to follow it without a lot of trouble."

Carson accepted the device and quickly read through the program. John could see the hope drain from him as he read. When he finished, he handed the computer back. "I'm very sorry, but I don't think that bringing in anyone else will help. I'm no science wiz by any means, but I was there at the briefing. Radek made it very clear that they've gone over and over the data and concluded that the ATA gene isn't the answer. Even if I did ask anyway, I have no doubt he'll take one look at this and refuse to consider it further."

It took some effort, but John managed to rein in his temper and remain calm. "I-we know what they've concluded--I already _told_ you that. Look, I can't explain how, but I know I'm right. This _**IS**_ the answer to our problem--I know it is. We just have to make sure how far Rodney got and finish it if need be. But we need Zelenka's help since Rodney can't do it. Please, you have to help us--before it's too late."

"I've done everything I can to help already--and I think ye know that. If Mr. Woolsey finds out I allowed Rodney to have access to the computer, he'll...he'll not be happy with me. At all."

Sensing his chance was rapidly slipping through his fingers, John made one last, desperate plea. "I'll take the blame! I'll tell him I snuck it to Rodney without your knowing about it. The computer, I mean. Now will you call in Radek to help with this or not?"

He looked for a moment like he was going to refuse, but at the last moment changed his mind and nodded. "All right, you win. I'll speak to Radek and see if it looks like this will give you all a chance. But right now, ye need to get back to bed and rest. We don't need ye joining Rodney just yet, now do we?"

John wanted to argue--badly. But in the end, he knew that the doctor was right and agreed to accompany Carson back to the ward. By the time they'd reached the curtained area where Ronon and Teyla were watching over Rodney, John was all but dead on his feet. With no more than a nod to each of them, he climbed into this bed and snuggled in. A short nap wouldn't hurt, he thought. "Tell him this is our only chance," he said, almost on the verge of slurring his words. "If he won't help us, we will find a way without him--and he'll have to answer to us once we're big again." His eyes flashed with defiance, daring Beckett to contradict him.

"All right then," agreed the doctor. "I'll pass on your message." He tucked the machine under his arm without further protest. "I'll go speak to him right now, in fact. But ye need some sleep, lad. If ye push yourself too hard, ye'll wind up in the same state as our friend here." His gaze lingered on the comatose boy, a sad almost wistful look on his face. "We need all of ye back to normal, but not at the cost of any of your lives."

"I won't do anything stupid. I promise." His vow made, John settled in and quickly drifted off.

~A~

John poked his head up from under a mound of blankets, blinking fuzzily for several moments as he oriented himself. Teyla, noticing his movements, was immediately on her feet and at his side. "John! Thank heavens you are finally awake. We were afraid...it does not matter. The important thing is that you are awake now."

In that instant, it all came crashing back to him at once. From the moment he found himself inside the ruins with the three strangers who felt more like family than his own brother, to their escape upon returning to the city and consquent escapades, to waking up to find Rodney in a coma, it all played in his head like a movie. Rodney's program. It was on the computer. Yeah, the computer. He needed the computer.

"Teyla, do you..." He didn't even get the entire question out before she was offering the machine to him. His shoulders sagged in relief as he accepted it, smiling broadly. "Thanks. Did Zelenka figure it out while I was asleep? How long was I out anyway?" he asked, powering up the unit.

There was a long moment of silence. His eyes narrowed as he watched his two friends exchange a worried look. Finally, she began to explain. "It has been almost ten hours since you and Doctor Beckett returned."

John's mouth fell open in shock. Before he question them further, Ronon continued where Teyla had left off. "Everyone's getting worried. Last nurse who was here said your temp was rising even faster than McKay's did. They been pretty worried you might be gonna go into a coma, too."

Scowling, he gave the pair a disgusted look. "Well you should have known better. I have to fix things so we can get turned back into adults again," he said, pointing to the screen. "With Rodney out, it's all up to me. Now let's get to it. I have work to do and we're _all_ running out of time here."

"We meant no offense," said Teyla. "We were merely worried about you--and not because you are our best hope for finding the answer. You are our friend, John; we care about you."

John rubbed tiredly at his eyes. "Yeah, I know. Sorry, I'm not mad at you guys. I'm just pis...um, frustrated because I lost so much time. I figured I'd rest for a couple of hours and then find out if the program was finished or not. I didn't plan on being out for ten hours. I just hope I can...well, anyway, tell me what's been going on. Did Rodney get the program done or not?"

Teyla and Ronon exchanged another long look before he got his explanation. "Yes, Rodney did finish the program. However, Doctor Zelenka does not believe that it is of any value and it has been discounted as useless. He said there is a problem with the interface and has convinced Mr. Woolsey that there no way to make it work. They are still working on a solution, but from the whispers we have overheard, they have little hope of finding a workable solution in time."

John ran a hand through his hair to the back of his head, leaving it to rest on his neck while he tried to think through the situation. "They left Rodney's program on the computer though, right?" he asked, looking anxiously at his two friends.

The two of them shrugged in unison. "Guess so," said Ronon.

"We have not turned on the computer since Doctor Beckett returned with it to explain what Doctor Zelenka found. He has already reported their findings to Mr. Woolsey."

John quickly located the file he needed and scanned through it. Much to his relief, it appeared to be unchanged from what he'd seen earlier and he smiled up at the other two. "It's here. Doesn't look like they've messed with it."

"So? Zelenka says it won't work. What good does that do us?" Ronon slouched against the side of the bed, his arms crossed and a confused look on his face.

A slow, knowing smile crept across his face as John explained. "Zelenka is right about one thing--as is, the interface won't work. But the key to the whole thing is in the database somewhere, I know it. That's where the chair comes in. I need to access some of the files and systems through it to get what we need. Don't ask me to explain it. I don't know how or why I know, but I do. So. What's the plan to get in and gain access to the chair without being detected?"

"As you know, we agree that the best time would be in the early hours of the morning. Fewer people will be up and about, plus it will be easier to hide our absence from the infirmary. If we use pillows and blankets to make it look like we are asleep in our beds, they may well not realize we are not here until it is too late. This means that we will need to go very soon, as it is quite late already." Teyla laid out the basic part of the plan they were in agreement on, but John could tell from Ronon's tense posture that there definite areas of contention.

"I need my blaster out of Beckett's lockup," he insisted.

Teyla bristled at the request. "Ronon, no. It is far too risky. We can evade anyone we might encounter. Firing your blaster at everyone we meet is certain to attract the very attention which we seek to avoid."

John thought a moment. "You're both right." His pronouncement stopped the disagreement cold.

"Huh?"

"I do not understand."

He indulged in just a moment of satisfaction at the looks on their faces, but time was wasting and he quickly got down to business. "Teyla's right that we can't afford to attract attention by stunning everyone we meet along the way. But Ronon is also right. We'll need to have a way to fend off any intrusions once I'm in the chair. It's vital that I stay in there long enough to get the information we need. I'll need to connect the computer to the chair so that I can download the information we need when I find it. So, first stop is Beckett's lockup and then it's on to the chair room. Agreed?"

"Perhaps it would be best if you were to retrieve the blaster alone. We will need to make the beds appear as if we are in them and asleep; it would save time if Ronon and I remained behind to do this while you retrieve the weapon. As you said, time is running out for all of us."

"Good idea. Okay, so you guys rig up the beds; I'll grab Ronon's blaster and meet you back here. We can head out to the chair room as soon as I get back. Anything else we need to discuss or are we ready?"

Both shook their heads, signaling the end of the conversation. "Okay then, I'll be back in a flash." After a brief pause to check the vicinity for any adult presence, he slipped away to retrieve the weapon. It was late enough that he encountered few people and all of them were easily avoided.

When at last he stood in front of the lockup, he placed his hand on the locking mechanism and concentrated. At first, nothing happened, much to his annoyance. He thought harder, but still the door did not open. Tamping down his irritation, he sent a final, determined 'open' at it. To his relief, the door slid open and he hurried inside. He went straight for the weapon, ignoring everything else in the room.

A few feet shy of the door, he heard voices and all but dove behind a shelving unit to hide. Thankfully, he'd closed the door behind him, though he hadn't relocked it. With any luck, those outside wouldn't realize that. The chatter continued for several long moments--to John it seemed like an eternity had passed before the voices began to grow fainter. He continued to wait, still crouched in his hiding place and willing them to just ileave/i once and for all. At last, the noise faded into nothing, and though he was relieved, he stayed hidden for awhile longer. After what felt like a reasonable amount of time had passed with no further noise, he slowly and quietly stepped out and over to the door.

Again he waited, listening for any sign of humanity in the area. When nothing but silence met his ears, he heaved a sigh of relief and cautiously opened the door. Steeling himself against possible discovery, he stuck his head out and scanned the immediate area with an expert eye. Finding it clear, he slipped out and relocked the room before sneaking back to join his companions.

Ronon and Teyla had done an excellent job of making it appear that the three of them were indeed fast asleep in the beds. John went over to his bed and plopped the backpack containing the blaster down next to the 'dummy' version of himself. Gathering the laptop from the table, he stuffed it into the bag with the pilfered weapon and began searching for the connectors he'd need to hook it up to the chair. Unable to locate the needed items, he turned to his partners in crime. "We'll need to swing by the labs first."

Ronon stepped forward and pointed to the bag. "I'll take my blaster."

Annoyed, John shook his head. "You can have it when we get to the chair room, not before. Well, maybe sooner if there's someone in the lab, but not before that. Evasion and avoidance, not search and destroy--remember?"

Though pouting, Ronon didn't back down. "I remember fine. I can still carry it myself. I'm not a baby and I won't let you treat me like one anymore than Woolsey."

It was a struggle to keep his temper, but John managed--despite the edge in his tone. "If you don't want to be treated like one, then you gotta stop acting like one. The equipment all goes in the bag. Period. Deal with it. Now it's time to head out--you in or not?"

Still glaring, Ronon didn't answer him. John shook his head and turned toward Rodney. He reached out and awkwardly patted the still arm, careful to avoid the many tubes and wires running from his friend. "We'll be back soon, so don't go and do anything stupid while we're gone. Or I'll...I'll...just don't, okay?"

After a determined look at the other two members of the little group, he started toward the door. "I can do this with or without you guys. I'd like for it to be with, but the choice is yours. Rodney's running out of time fast--heck, we all are. If you're willing to follow orders, come on and let's get this done. If not, stay here and I'll be back as fast as I can."

"I will accompany you," said Teyla, already trailing along behind him.

John could feel Ronon's eyes shooting daggers at his back, but he kept on going. A stealthy glance back over his shoulder found Dex looking over at McKay's bed. "I'm in," he said, trotting over to catch up with them.

Smiling, John led them out into the hallway and headed straight for the labs. There had indeed been a minimal amount of personnel up and about so avoiding detection had been incredibly easy. The lab itself was another story, however. Although not heavily populated at the late hour, there were several scientists moving about. Ducking into a niche near the door, John turned to the others. "Okay, any ideas on how to get in and out with out being noticed?"

"We need a diversion," announced Teyla. "Perhaps Ronon and I could distract them while you locate the items you need?"

"Nah, too risky. We're supposed to avoid being seen, remember?" Ronon's expression clearly said how pleased he was to have the opportunity for that little dig, throwing John's words from earlier back in his face.

"He's right," said John, looking apologetic. "We need something else." He thought for a moment and then pulled the computer from the bag. "Maybe if we can figure out how to get into the mainframe, we can kill the lights in there."

"I believe I can assist with that," said Teyla. "I was watching Rodney work on disrupting the internal sensors earlier. I am confident that I can find what we need."

Caught by surprise, John looked up from the screen as the unit booted up. "Really? Cool, that will save a lot of time." When it was ready, he handed it to her. "There ya go, all yours. Knock yourself out."

After a brief frown at the colloquialism, she quickly got to work. John grew more nervous as time passed, wondering if they'd done the right thing and second-guessing his decision. Just as he was about to question her progress, the lab went dark.

Teyla quickly shut down the unit and handed it to John, smiling broadly. The three of them stayed hidden, listening to the cursing and grumbling from within the lab. John wondered if his companions were having as much trouble suppressing the urge to laugh as he was. One of them giggled, but before he could say anything there was a distinct 'oof' as the other party delivered a physical warning to stop. John was pretty sure that Ronon had been the offender and Teyla the dispenser of punishment, but the sound of footsteps approaching robbed him of the opportunity to say anything to either of them.

He held his breath as people exited the lab and passed by them. He didn't recognize anyone in the dim lighting and none of the voices sounded familiar. The wait for them to pass out of earshot was agonizing, and he was certain that one of them would turn back at any moment to berate his little band. Thankfully, that didn't happen and he heaved a sigh of relief when they were finally well out of hearing. "Okay, come on, let's go."

John didn't question how or why he knew exactly where to look for the needed cables and equipment. Heading straight for the drawer where he knew they'd be, he retrieved the items and shoved them into the bag with the weapon and the computer. He was about to close the door when a familiar object caught his eye. He thought for a moment, then picked it up and added it to their loot. At last ready to go, he nodded to his cohorts and headed for the doorway.

They'd barely set foot outside the lab when the lights came back on. The three of them froze for a moment, sharing a worried look. A loud crash came from the back, after which someone shouted in a language that John didn't recognize. He didn't wait around to see why, taking off at a dead run toward the chair room and silently waving the others to follow him. They ducked down several side corridors and finally into an empty storeroom. "Any sign of pursuit?" he asked, breathing hard.

Ronon, bringing up the rear, shook his head. "No, I don't think they were yelling at us. Hasn't been anyone behind us the whole way."

"Let's give it a minute or two just to make sure," he said, still winded.

He saw a worried look pass between his two cohorts, which immediately got his dander up. "Knock it off," he snapped. "I'm fine." He waited a moment longer, happy to find that neither of them argued. Hearing no sign of anyone else in the vicinity, he stepped out of the room. "All right, let's go."

Their little stunt cutting power to the labs had the unfortunate side-effect of making the hallways a bit more populous than normal for the early hour. Still, it had been unavoidable, but thankfully the team didn't have all that difficult a time evading detection, even with the addition of the newly-awakened among the adult population. When they at last arrived at their destination, John was more than a little relieved to find the room empty.

The trio ducked inside and John instantly set to work. He first closed and locked the doors, moving next to connect the computer to the chair. Once the cables were in place, he turned to the others. "Here," he said, handing the beloved blaster over to Ronon. "Anyone one comes through that door before I'm done, stun them."

Grinning like a kid who'd just been given the keys to the candy store, Ronon took the weapon. "Got it." He immediately took up a defensive position and hunkered down.

John handed the smaller stunner he'd found in Rodney's lab to Teyla and pointed to the computer. "I'll need you to watch this for me. If anyone gets past Ronon, you have to make sure they don't disconnect it before I'm done."

She nodded solemnly. "We will not let you down."

Taking a deep breath, he climbed into the chair. He heard Teyla's gasp as it lit up but he ignored her reaction and got right down to business. The large structure dwarfed his current size, but he managed to find a comfortable position that still allowed him to reach the control pads at the end of each arm.

The odd tingling sensation he'd had ever since their arrival intensified, and he soon found himself swept away into a tide of strange images and sensations. His physical surroundings faded into the background as he fought to navigate through the maelstrom he'd entered. He closed his eyes, concentrating with every ounce of energy he had. Fear slowly began to wedge its way into his mind, but a renewed sense of determination pushed it aside as he sought the way among the flood of information assaulting his mind.

Sweat broke out on his forehead, but he stubbornly pushed on. Bit by bit, the information coalesced into systems and pathways that began to make sense to him. He could feel the tremors in his limbs as his strength was sapped by the alien technology, but the thrill of the knowledge taking form gave him a hefty dose of adrenaline and allowed him to keep going. He wound his way through the maze, system by system. Through life support, power readings and controls, shield schematics, and star drive files, he searched for that elusive bit of information he needed.

Nothing existed to him outside of the chair. His breath hitched as he realized fully what this was: Atlantis. He was immersed so deeply in the flying city that the distinction blurred as to where he ended and Atlantis began. A sense of giddiness came over him as he continued working his way on through her files and systems. He found the section that referenced the access by the group of scientists working on the reversal process. He moved quickly past it, however, knowing with absolute certainty that his answers would not be found there. But where were they? Where did he need to go to find them?

"Help me! I don't know where to look--tell me where I need to look, please?" Communicating with the city seemed as natural to him as breathing and somehow he _knew_ she would not let him down. "Please, our time is running out. Rodney's program is only part of the answer--we need the interface, too. Please, hurry!"

The tingling in the back of his mind changed, though he wasn't certain he would be able to describe the difference. It was suddenly just...more. In the blink of an eye, she had morphed, going from a faint presence to an almost tangible being inside of him. It was an odd sensation, but not at all scary or threatening. It felt...right. She had no visible form, but she reached out and took his hand nonetheless, pulling him along the pathways and circuits at a dizzying speed. He didn't attempt to track where they were going, instead allowing himself to be pulled along, content to know that she would never allow him to come to any harm. He would find out where they were going when they arrived, and strangely enough, he was totally okay with that.

He was feeling rather queasy by the time they reached their destination, but managed to keep the contents of his stomach where they belonged. Ignoring the unpleasant sensation, he looked around. "Where are we?" he asked, not recognizing any of their surroundings.

The answer was a gentle whisper, and yet she did not speak to him in words. He suddenly just knew that they were in a section containing the archives of failed experiments for various projects. John was puzzled, wondering why they were there. He didn't need theoretical applications, he needed a solid solution, one that would work to interface between Rodney's program and the Ancient device that had changed them.

She knew what he wanted without him even voicing the question and suddenly he had his answer. There was an interface in one of the failed experiments that would work for them. It hadn't performed exactly as planned in the original experiment, but combined with Rodney's program it would do what was needed and allow the reversal to take place. He had barely completed the thought that he needed to download the interface to the Rodney's computer when Atlantis began the process. It was if she knew what he was thinking and feeling before he could even communicate it to her. "Cool," he said, already knowing that she was aware of his feelings even before he spoke.

While the download was in progress, John took the opportunity to wander a bit and have a look around. There were programs here from every type of scientific division imaginable. There were applications for chemistry, astrophysics, bio-mechanical engineering, agricultural engineering, environmental systems, and much, much more, all there at his fingertips and waiting for someone to return to them. Before he could delve any deeper, he felt an insistent tug in the back of his mind. He frowned, realizing almost instantly that it was not Atlantis and that whoever or whatever was responsible was attempting to separate him from the city. He resisted, not willing to give up the amazing connection just yet.

He gradually became aware of hands on his arm and a vaguely recognizable voice was calling his name, begging him to sever his connection. "No," he insisted. "Not yet."

He'd barely formed the words when he felt Atlantis begin to pull away. Again without her speaking in words, he felt her in his mind, telling him that he must go now, that it was too dangerous for him to stay. John was confused by her plea for him to leave, as he could feel how much she wanted him to stay. "Why are you doing this?"

She answered him with a final push, severing the connection. He was stunned by the depth of her sorrow at the loss of his presence, her feelings nearly overwhelming him as the link was terminated.

His senses returned gradually and he was surprised to find himself gasping for breath. The heat was stifling and he wished he'd noticed it while he was so deeply immersed in the city's systems--he could have fixed whatever was causing the problem. Only after a persistent tap on his cheek did he notice that someone was speaking to him. "John! Och, lad, what have ye done to yourself now? Come on, look at me, son. Are ye back with us now?"

John was shocked to find that his body felt so heavy and disconnected that he could barely move his head enough to turn toward the sound of the voice. He knew that voice with the familiar accent, but the name refused to come to him. He blinked several times as the room insisted on going in and out of focus, until at last his vision cleared and he saw three anxious faces peering at him. "Crsn?" He coughed, wondering why his voice didn't seem to work either and tried again. "C-Carson?"

"Aye, lad. It's good to see you're back with us again. Ye had us worried there for a moment or two." John frowned, wondering why it was that they had been so worried. He was fine, after all; he simply needed to rest a minute or two.

His eyes had no sooner slid shut than he was being shaken awake again. "John! Ye need to stay with me a wee bit longer, lad. Ye can rest soon, I promise."

John tried to answer, but his tongue seemed to be glued to the bottom of his mouth and the best he could manage was an incoherent mumble. Beckett didn't seem to mind though and continued to offer encouragement. "That's a good lad. Now I need ye to let go of the chair." He tried to do as Carson asked, but along with every other part of his body, his fingers refused to work and remained firmly locked in a death grip on the arms of the chair. He wanted to tell the doctor that he couldn't do it, but his voice still wasn't working either.

A loud scream filled the air at exactly the same moment that unknown hands began to pry his fingers loose, and it took a moment for it to sink in that the sound was coming from him. Pain flooded through him, beginning in his hands and flowing in giant waves up his arms to spread throughout his entire body. Dimly he could hear Ronon and Teyla join Carson in calling his name, but the pain was too much and he couldn't answer any of them. Blackness danced at the edge of his vision, slowly growing until it nearly enveloped him entirely. The lights seemed to dim, but he had no energy to spare for anything beyond the all-consuming fire that was racing through every cell in his body. He could hear Ronon and Teyla yelling at him, demanding that he stay with them; unfortunately, he simply was not capable of doing as they wanted. Unable to stand the pain any longer, John sent a mental apology to his friends and surrendered eagerly to the beckoning darkness.

~A~


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey, see that? He moved. I told you they were wrong and he was gonna wake up."

"Ronon, hush. This is not the time or the place for...for I-told-you-so."

John attempted to demand that they be quiet and allow him to go back to sleep, but the only sound that came out of his mouth was a weak groan. He felt a dip on the side of the bed next to him, and the next thing he knew a small hand had settled on the middle of his chest and was shaking him rather vigorously. He tried to lift his own hand and swat away the offending grip, which he was fairly certain belonged to Ronon.

"Hey, come on, John. You gotta wake up. Time's running out, buddy. Fast." The voice above him indeed belonged to Ronon, confirming his suspicions as to the intruder. Again, he tried to push the other boy way and tell him to knock it off, but again he was unsuccessful. He did manage another groan, this one not quite as weak as the last but still far from normal.

"Ronon, stop. Wishing for him to awaken will not make it so."

He wanted to thank Teyla for saying what he himself was thinking--and correct her about his state of awareness, of course--but the effort was simply too much. Lights, he thought. Lights would help him wake up more fully. Why hadn't they thought to turn them on before they tried to wake him?

"See? He _is_ waking up. He's doing that thing with the lights again."

"Ronon, Doctor Beckett and his staff have explained many times already that the flickering of the lights has nothing to do with John. They feel it is far more likely a problem left over from when we... when I disrupted the lighting in the labs."

John heard the exasperation in Teyla's voice, but it was also full of guilt and regret. It gave him even more incentive to open his eyes...oh, right, he thought. He had to open his eyes to make the darkness go away. Mustering every ounce of energy he could summon, John concentrated on forcing his eyelids apart.

"That's what they say. But they haven't been able to figure it out yet, have they? I think they're just blaming you...us...because it's easier. You didn't mess anything up. John's doing it, I know he is."

"This is pointless. You refuse to listen to reason so I will not discuss it any further with you."

At last, John met with success and his eyes opened fractionally. He immediately regretted the action, however, as the brightness of the room burned into his retinas. He cried out, curling onto his side in a fetal position and moaning.

"Hey, you need to turn the lights back on. We can't see anything." Ronon smacked him on the shoulder, bouncing up and down on the bed.

"Ronon, what are you doing?" Teyla's worried voice drifted up from somewhere next to the bed. "You must leave John alone and come down here at once."

John hated that she was worrying about him and at last found his voice. "T'la?" he croaked, still firmly curled on his side with his eyes pinched shut.

"John? It is so good to see you awake again." He wanted to smile at the excitement in her tone, but his head was pounding too badly for him to concentrate on anything else.

"Told ya." Ronon's smug retort prompted John to reach out and swat at the other boy's knee. "Hey!" protested Ronon. "What was that for?"

Despite clearing his throat, John's reply still came out slurred. "Leave 'er 'lone."

"Turn the lights back on and I'll think about it." Not backing down in the least, Ronon continued to bounce up and down on the bed.

Not understanding what the boy was talking about, John braved forcing his eyes open again. Sure enough, just as Ronon had said, the room was pitch black. Not even the emergency lighting was on and that was definitely a bad thing, he realized. There should at least be some dim lighting, not to mention the glow from all the monitors and stuff that they had Rodney hooked up to.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than the monitors surrounding Rodney came to life, followed almost instantly by the overhead lighting. Instead of the bright midday glow that he first awoke to, however, they appeared to be set to the overnight strength--which was far more tolerable to his aching head. John didn't take the time to process it though, instead reaching frantically for Ronon's arm and latching on for all he was worth. "Did we get it? Did you keep 'em out until the download finished? How long has it been anyway? Is Rodney still doing okay? Tell me what's going on!"

Startled by the intensity of the sudden barrage, Ronon yanked his arm free and scrambled backwards to the foot of the bed. "What's wrong with you?"

Teyla hopped up and sat on the other side of the bed, reaching out to pat his shoulder. "It is all right, John. Please, you must calm yourself and then I shall explain. Will you do that for us?"

John sank back into the mattress and nodded, trying to slow his breathing and do as she asked. She must have been satisfied with the effort though, because she began to speak almost immediately. "Rodney is...holding his own, or so they say. They try to be careful about what they say around us, but we are still able to...hear things. Things that they do not wish for us to know. In truth, they do not expect Rodney to survive much beyond the end of the day--about 12 more hours."

Stunned, John looked over at the boy in question. Rodney didn't _look_ much different than he had when they left for the chair room. There seemed to be a few additional pieces of equipment next to his bed and a few additional tubes and wires running from his body to the machines though. Twelve hours. Time was fast running out, so why wasn't anything being done now that they had the answer?

Almost as if she read his mind, Teyla supplied the missing information. "The download was successful. Once you were stabilized, Carson took the computer to Doctor Zelenka. He has examined the program Rodney wrote along with the information you supplied; after running a number of...stimu...simulations, he has reported to Mr. Woolsey that he believes the solution will work. However Mr. Woolsey has so far refused to give his consent for our return to the planet to attempt a reversal."

"What?" John couldn't believe what he was hearing. They had the solution but weren't going to allow them to use it. Unbelievable!

Before he could question her further, Ronon piped in. "It's because of that gene-thing you have. Gotta have that to make it work. And you were out cold for a long time. They kept saying you weren't gonna wake up, but I knew they were wrong. I knew you'd never quit on us like that."

Suddenly it all made sense. "Woolsey won't--can't--risk an adult with the gene to initiate the program. If it doesn't work, that person could be transformated into a kid just like we were. Without being able to test that the reversal process will work for sure, he can't risk anyone else being turned into a kid and dying. That means I have to do it." He took a deep breath. "All right, I gotta talk to Woolsey. _**Now**_." After a worried glance over at Rodney, he turned his attention to the IV tube in his own arm. "I need one of you to get someone in here to take this thing out, preferably Beckett. I'll need to talk to him anyway, along with Woolsey."

Ronon made as if to jump down, but John immediately stopped him. "Woah, hold up there, Chewie. I think Teyla should do this. It's a little more her area, if you get my meaning. Besides, I've got something else in mind for you."

Teyla nodded. "I overheard Carson mention going back to talk to Mr. Woolsey in person, to try one last time to convince him to allow the mission. With any luck, I will be able to catch him while he is still in Mr. Woolsey's office and bring them both here."

The moment she was gone, John turned his attention to his other teammate. Ronon was perched at the foot of his bed, scowling as he watched Teyla's retreating form. "I coulda done it," he groused.

John rolled his eyes. "Of course you could. But like I said, I have something else in mind for you." Stretching up as much as possible to look for any other adults within earshot, John waved Ronon closer. A nurse was working on one of the machines next to Rodney's bed, much to John's frustration, so he was forced to make small talk until she left. "So what's been going around here while I was out. Anything interesting?"

"You mean besides you making the lights go nuts every time you tried to open your eyes?" Ronon's eyes gleamed with excitement and it was obvious he was eager to tell the tale.

"What are you talking about? I haven't done anything to any lights," insisted John. "There's probably a short or something somewhere."

Ronon shook his head adamantly. "Nope, it's that gene-thing you have. They say no, but I saw what happened when you were in the chair. It's definitely you. What's it feel like anyway? Is it like being in the chair?"

John glared over at the nurse, who was still hovering over Rodney, before turning back to Ronon. "It's not me. And the chair was pretty awesome, actually. Once I got used to it, it was like...like there was a real person in there. It was weird, but way cool the way she--the city--seemed to know what I wanted before I could even tell her. I had no idea where to find what I needed so she...well, she showed me where it was and how to get to it."

"Wow."

Out of the corner of his eye, John saw the nurse finally leave and pulled Ronon close enough that they could easily whisper without being overheard. Knowing their time was rapidly running out, he got straight down to business. "What happened to your blaster after you let them in the chair room?"

Ronon's scowl deepened. "They took it away. Locked it up in the armory this time. Said I was too reckless with it."

"How many of 'em did you stun before you let them in?" John couldn't stop the grin from appearing on his face as he pictured the action.

The scowl disappeared as Ronon shrugged, trying in vain to appear nonchalant. "Four of Lorne's marines and two of Beckett's medics. Why do you want to know? You want me to go get it back or something?"

"That's my guy," said John proudly. "I knew you wouldn't let 'em in till we got what we needed." His grin faded, his expression turning dead serious as he reached out and grabbed Ronon's forearm. "Yeah, I think we're gonna need it if Woolsey says no. We need to be ready for any and all possibilities here. We can't let Rodney die, not without putting up one hell of a fight first."

Ronon tried to pull away and take off, eager to retrieve the weapon. John's grip was like iron, however, and the boy went nowhere. "Wait a minute. This is important." Ronon stopped resisting, but John kept his hold on the other boy's arm. "I need to you listen to me--I'm not kidding around here, this really is important. We don't have much time--you know that. So I want you to give me your word that you will not try to use it on anyone unless and until I tell you to. I mean it," he said, seeing that Ronon was about to protest. "If you get spotted and try to stun anyone, we're toast. Especially me and Rodney. You have to make sure you aren't seen and you have to get that stunner back here without being noticed. Our lives may depend on it."

John watched him as Ronon took in the seriousness of the situation. He could see it in the other boy's eyes when the enormity of his task hit home, but Ronon didn't fear it. "I won't let you down," he said, jumping off the bed. "I promise." He took off, pausing once at the end of the bed to check that the coast was clear and again at the door to look back and wave.

Alone at last, John sank tiredly back into the bed. Rubbing his temples to ease the pounding in his head, he considered what course of action to take should Woolsey refuse to allow them to leave. Much as he was loathe to admit it, he himself wasn't up to a lot of physical exertion. And with Rodney in a coma, they'd definitely need a way to transport him as well. They could probably get by with a wheelchair, he thought. He could hold Rodney in while one of the others pushed them--probably Teyla with Ronon taking point. They'd have to take a jumper and figure out a way to keep the control room from locking down the gate or raising the shield on them.

"Well, lad, it's good to see you back with us. Ye had us all very worried there for awhile. How are ye feeling?"

John was startled by the sound of Carson's voice. Between the headache and his contingency plan, he hadn't heard them approach. Realizing he was still rubbing his temples, John dropped his hands and looked up at them, his head tilted and his gaze appraising. "I'm okay."

Beckett frowned, getting immediately down to business checking his vital signs. "Oh aye, I can see that. I suppose you're going to try to deny that ye have a headache, too. Because of course everyone grimaces like that while massaging their temples for no reason."

Allowing Carson's ministrations without protest, John answered the allegation with nothing more than a one-shouldered shrug. Beckett shook his head and continued to check him over. Pleased with himself for getting the best of the doctor, John shot a mischievous smirk over to Teyla and was surprised to find Mr. Woolsey standing there next to her--along with Ronon. There was no sign of the blaster and judging by the look on his face, Ronon hadn't made it to the armory before running into Teyla and the two adults. John hid it well, but underneath it all he couldn't help but wonder how they had all gotten so close without him realizing they were there.

"I brought Mr. Woolsey, as you asked," she said, an encouraging smile lighting her face.

"John. I'm pleased to see you're better. I think we'll be waiting to talk until after Doctor Beckett gives you the all clear, I'm afraid. Standard procedure, you know. I'm certain you understand." The man seemed sincere, but John was still more than just a little irritated at Woolsey's words.

Before he could reply, the doctor in question stepped away from the bed. "Well, things seem to be in order. I'm going to see about getting ye something for that headache ye don't seem to have while you're speaking with Mr. Woolsey here."

Carson turned to go, but Richard stopped him. "Doctor, if I may have a moment first. Please?"

"Oh, yes, of course."

The two men stepped to the other side of the room and spoke in whispers. That irritated John even more and he watched the two like a hawk, catching bits and pieces as he read their lips. "He's asking Beckett if I'm going to be fit for the mission. He doesn't like the idea of letting us go back into the lab alone. Carson says he can't make any guarantees, but that for now, my vitals are stable enough."

His anger got the best of him as he turned to Teyla. "It's not his decision to make! It's our lives on the line here, not his!"

Ever the peacemaker, Teyla tried to calm him. "I am certain that he is only doing what he feels is best for all of us. He wants the best possible outcome with the least possible risk. That is how it works, does it not?"

Her calm demeanor angered him even more. "No! You don't know that at all. We're _**dying**_ here, Teyla! They're talking about taking all these precautions and keeping us _safe_ when we're all dying a little bit more with every second they delay. What the heck does any of it matter if we die while they're deciding whether it's "safe" or not?"

"I'm sorry to hear that you feel that way, John. I can assure you that I am committed to doing what is most beneficial to everyone involved. And yes, I am factoring in how safe it is for all concerned--including the four of you. I would be totally remiss in my duties if I did otherwise, and I think down deep, you know that." Woolsey was suddenly back, standing next to Teyla with a grave look on his face.

"I can do it. I can connect the laptop with Rodney's program to the control panel in the lab on the planet and initiate the reversal process. So cut to the chase. Are you going to let us go back or not?" John crossed his arms, his eyes flashing with anger and defiance.

Woolsey sighed. "I'm sorry, Colonel, but it's not that simple. We are still running simulations and evaluating the results in order to determine the viability of the program and the odds of success."

"There's no more time! Don't you get it? Rodney doesn't have anymore time! If we don't do this within the next few hours, he'll be dead. And I won't be far behind. If I don't do this--and soon--then Ronon and Teyla are doomed, too, because there isn't anyone else with the gene who can safely enter that lab and initiate the process. So you tell me...what are we waiting for, really?"

"He's right, Mr. Woolsey. As I've said before, we no longer have the luxury of time to run simulations and test out the theories. We need to get them back to that planet and into the lab as soon as possible, before it's too late." Carson returned as promised with the medication and handed it to John.

Looking from the pills in his hand to Carson and back again, John hesitated. The last thing he needed was something that was going to make him sleepy. Sleepier, he mentally corrected. Because though he was not about to admit to anyone else, he had to admit to himself that he was totally exhausted from simply talking. He could feel himself slipping ever closer to that coma, just like Rodney. They had to leave _**now**_ damn it, before it was too late. But how was he going to force Woolsey to see reason?

A cup of water suddenly appeared in front of him, but John balked at it. "I don't need this stuff," he grumbled.

"Son, it's only Paracetamol. It's not going make ye drowsy or put ye sleep; it's only going to take the edge off, hopefully."

John eyed him suspiciously. "It's what?"

"Tylenol," supplied Carson. "Plain, ordinary, tylenol. Nothing more."

He hesitated a moment longer, then dutifully downed the two pills. Handing Carson the water, John turned his attention to Mr. Woolsey. It was definitely time for the gloves to come off. "You heard what Carson said. It's time to cut the crap and lay it all out. Bottom line: we can't wait any longer for your tests and simulations. Either you let us go now or you're killing all four of us, just as sure as if you put a gun to our heads and pull the trigger. So what's it gonna be? You gonna let us take the only shot we have, or are you gonna sit back and let the axe fall on us, one by one?"

The administrator's jaw was clenched tight, a vein throbbing near his temple another sign of his rising anger. His arms were crossed defensively over his chest as he ran his thumbnail across his bottom lip. "Well," he said at last. "Major Lorne was certainly not exaggerating when he insisted that even though your appearance had changed, your skills and instincts are as sharp as ever--as is your tongue. However, I must admit, you do present a very compelling argument, Colonel." Woolsey paused to nod brusquely at Carson. "Very well, Doctor. Ready your team and your patients. I'll have a jumper prepared and ready for departure at your convenience."

He turned then and started to leave, but paused, turning back to look John directly in the eyes. "I'd like to apologize, Colonel. I realize you may find this difficult to believe, but I really do want the best possible outcome for everyone involved here. Good luck to all of you. I really do hope that this works." With his piece said, he whirled and hurried out of the room.

Carson broke the stunned silence that had fallen over the room. "All right then, we'd best get preparations underway. I'll be accompanying ye, along with a full medical team. While we getting our equipment and gear ready, I want ye to rest, John--and no arguments. Just a wee bitty nap before we go, that's all. You're going to need every last bit of your strength to pull this off and I think ye know that."

Eyes wide with fear, John shook his head. "No! I can't, not now. I'll sleep all you want after we're fixed."

"No. That's not going to help ye find the strength ye'll need to initiate the reversal. Look, son, I understand your reluctance to sleep; anyone would be terrified in your place. But the more rested ye are, the better the odds of ye succeeding. I'm not certain that you understand exactly how hard on your system that little stunt with the chair was, but trust me, you're very very lucky that you woke up at all after that one. I promise ye, I will wake ye the moment we're ready to leave." He paused then, looking more uncertain that John could ever remember. "If it comes down to it, I can and will resort to administering ye a stimulant to keep ye going as long as possible. But I will not lie to ye, that is a very very very dangerous thing and it would be far better for all of ye if we don't have to go that route. We do this my way or not at all--then ye won't be able to save anyone, least of all yourself. So what's it going to be?"

John swallowed hard, giving a barely perceptible nod of his still-aching head. "Okay. I'll do it your way, as long as you're sure you can wake me up--however you have to do it."

Carson dipped his head in agreement. "Good. All right then, I'll see to things on our end and I want ye--all three of ye--to try to rest until we're ready to go."

"Wait," called John as the doctor moved away. "What about the stuff _**I'll**_ need? The computer and the cables and...stuff. Someone has to get all that together."

"And I'll need my blaster," added Ronon defiantly.

Beckett rolled his eyes at the last request, but addressed their concerns. "I'll have Radek get the things ye'll need together, John. And I'm sorry, Ronon, but I have no authority when it comes to weaponry around here. I will pass along your request to Major Lorne, though I cannot guarantee his agreement. Will that be acceptable?"

After a chorus of "okay" from both boys, Carson hurried off to begin his preparations. John watched him go, resisting the heavy feeling that was threatening to pull him under. When the doctor was completely out of sight, he turned to his two teammates. "Okay, looks like we have an hour to rest. He was definitely right about one thing--we've got a big night ahead," he said ominously. Almost as an afterthought, he turned to Ronon. "And no running off to raid the armory, Chief. Let Beckett do it his way. You won't need it anyway since they're letting us go back."

"Maybe," he argued. "Better safe than sorry though."

"Promise me," demanded John, also refusing to back down.

"Stop this--both of you!" Teyla's eyes were flashing angrily and John knew that meant trouble. "Ronon, did you not hear Carson say that John needed to sleep? Let the adults do their jobs and do as you were told for once. Or do you wish to be the one responsible for the failure of the mission?"

After putting Ronon in his place, she next turned her attention to John, who instinctively shrank even further back into the bed. "And you! Yes, you are our leader, but you are also our only hope of being returned to an adult form. And yet here you are, arguing with Ronon instead of doing as instructed. Whether it was your intention or not, the result is the same--you are decreasing the odds of success, and therefore, risking our lives. _All_ of our lives, not just yours and Rodney's."

Before John could answer her, a sheepish Ronon beat him to the punch. "Okay, I probably deserved that, but man, that was harsh," he said, nodding sharply at John.

"No, she's right. I was being selfish and not thinking clear. We should all do what she said and get some rest now." Snuggling down into the covers, he was half asleep by the time he felt Ronon crawl up and settle at the bottom of the bed. "Night, guys," said John, smiling.

"Good night, John. Sleep well."

"What she said."

John was already asleep by the time they answered.

~A~

It seemed as if only a few moments had passed when John found himself being vigorously shaken. "Hey, come on, wake up already. It's time to go. Beckett's almost got the kid unhooked from all that medical stuff."

John pried his eyes open, certain he was dreaming. No way had he been asleep for an hour already. But there was Ronon looming above him despite his small size, having climbed onto the bed to awaken him. The next bed over, Carson was indeed removing last of the monitors and leads from Rodney. John rubbed his eyes, trying to get them to focus properly and only marginally succeeding. Ronon reached out as if to give him another shake, but John batted his hands away. "'M awake. Knock it off."

"Don't look it." Despite his words, he jumped down from his perch on John's bed and went straight for a wheelchair at the end of the bed. John frowned as he and Teyla pushed it straight to his bedside instead of Rodney's.

"What are you doing? Rodney's the one who needs that, not me." Confused, he looked from one to the other, waiting for an explanation. Neither of them said anything, but turned to the doctor instead.

"You're going in the chair and that's final. Rodney's going on a stretcher; if need be, we'll transfer him to the chair when we get to the entrance of the lab. The three of you will have to take it from there." Beckett's tone left no room for argument, but John wasn't giving in easily.

"What? No, no way. I can walk. Besides, with a full medical team and all the junk you guys will bring, the jumper will be too crowded for a wheelchair." He nearly winced, his argument sounding lame even to his own ears.

Carson stopped, placing his hands on his hips. "This is not open to debate, son. We don't have time to argue the state of your health right now, so either ye get in the chair and ride or the whole thing is off. Your call."

Deep down, John knew the doctor was right. Heck, he'd even thought as much himself when he was considering contingency plans in the event of Woolsey's refusal to approve the mission. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to give in gracefully and glowered at the Scot as he threw back the covers and climbed into the chair. He was still pouting even after Rodney had been wheeled out ahead of him.

"We got him, Doc," announced Ronon, already in position behind John. Teyla reached over and unlocked the wheel closest to her while Ronon did the same on his side.

Beckett ignored the angry look John directed his way and went on like nothing had happened. "Very well then, I'll go on ahead and make certain everything is ready. The three of ye shouldn't have any trouble making it to the jumper bay, provided ye don't take any detours along the way--especially to the armory. Besides, I have it on very good authority that Major Lorne already has that blaster of yours on the second jumper, so you'd be wasting valuable time on a fool's errand." With a solemn nod to all of them, Carson hurried off to complete his task.

Once the doctor had disappeared from sight, John was determined to put his own plan into action. "All right, it's time to move. Let's start by getting..."

"We're already on it," said Ronon, moving toward the curtain. "I'm taking point and Teyla's gonna push, bringing up the rear. Ready?"

"Just hold up there a minute, chief. First things first. And first is you guys getting me out of this stupid chair. Teyla can go after you and I'll bring up the rear." John was already shifting in the seat, preparing to slide out and take off under his own steam--until Ronon and Teyla stopped him.

"Nope, sorry, Doc says you ride; that means you ride. So be quiet, because we're moving out now." Ronon raised his hand and gestured toward the door as he set off.

John felt the chair begin to move and twisted around enough to shoot off a glare at the female member of the group. She smile ruefully, but didn't stop. "I am sorry," she whispered. "But Ronon is correct. Doctor Beckett was very firm in his insistence that you ride to the jumper bay. You will have your opportunity to shine once we reach the lab. Please John, we are all depending you."

Fuming, he rode in silence. She was right, they were depending on him. But instead of that making him feel better, it only served to make things worse, and he hadn't thought that was possible. They were all right and he knew it, a fact which only caused his mood to darken further. John was so deep in his thoughts that he was surprised to find the chair abruptly screeching to a halt and doing a 180 before being backing up the ramp and into the small craft.

"Well, I see ye made it all right." Carson's unmistakable brogue drifted back from the front of the ship, growing stronger and louder as he spoke. Before John knew what was happening, the Scot was standing in front of him locking the wheelchair in place. "There now, that should do to keep ye safe until we arrive."

"I'm not..."

"...a baby. Yes, Colonel, I got that the first time. But ye are awfully weak, as much as ye don't want to admit it, and I want ye to use the chair right up to the point where ye enter the lab--longer if possible." Beckett patted him on the shoulder, but John was having none of it and shrugged him off.

"I can get back in once we get there," he insisted.

"Son, we don't have time to argue about this! Rodney's heart has stopped once already--don't worry we got him back in normal sinus rhythm quick enough...this time. The longer we delay, the weaker he gets--the weaker all of you get. And the weaker you all are, the worse the odds of this being successful. Now stay in the bloody chair and let's be off, shall we?"

Stunned by the news, John simply nodded. Hunkering down into the chair, he watched the rear hatch close and waited for the ship to move. Movement along one of the benches near the front of the craft drew his eye to the stretcher bearing Rodney's still form. Medical personnel hovered over the small figure, checking the various tubes and portable monitors connected to the boy. John shuddered, thinking about what Carson had said, how close his friend had come to dying already. Fear bubbled up within him, warring with determination and concern, all of it complicated by the ever-present headache and overwhelming exhaustion he was still feeling. He leaned his head back and tried to block it all out, at least for the duration of the short ride.

The next thing he knew, Carson was hovering in front of his chair with a worried look on his face. "Oh thank God," said the Scot. "I was afraid we weren't going to be able to get ye back for bit there."

John shook his head in a vain effort to fend off the fatigue that still threatened to pull him back under. His heart, already racing, sped up even more when he saw the empty bench where Rodney's stretcher had been. His eyes went wide as he fought to keep his emotions in check. "What happened? Where's Rodney?" he demanded.

"Easy there, lad," coaxed the doctor. "He's fine. He's outside with Teyla and Ronon; some of my best staff are seeing to him. It's you that gave us quite the scare this time. Ye drifted off during the trip through the gate and we weren't able to wake ye once we arrived. I had to resort to giving ye that shot of stimulant we discussed earlier, which is why you might be feeling a wee bit jittery about now."

"Oh." John sat back in the chair, not knowing quite what else to say. Lifting a shaky hand to rub his forehead, the reality of the situation hit him. "I don't have much time left, do I?" he asked, dropping his hand and looking up Carson.

He watched the conflicting emotions flash across Beckett's face. "Nothing is certain, mind ye, but...no, I'm fairly certain your time is very, very limited. After comparing your scans to Rodney's, it appears that the strain on your system from using the chair has greatly accelerated the effects of the de-aging process in ye."

John looked down, picking the fuzz balls off the blanket covering his legs as the enormity of it all hit home. He took a deep breath, turning to Carson with an open and vulnerable expression. "That's what I thought. I...I can tell. So I guess we should get to the lab and get started. B-before...before it's too late." He paused a moment, considering how to proceed, and extended his hand. "I just want to...to...um, thank you," he said. "For all of it. Especially for not lying to me--us. To us."

Carson reached out and took the boy's hand, a stunned look on his face. Tears formed in the doctor's eyes, but didn't fall. "It's been my pleasure, lad. My very, very great pleasure." Carson's voice was thick with emotion as he reached up and gently patted John on the shoulder. "Well, I suppose it's time then," said Beckett, ending the moment before it turned awkward. He stood and unlocked the wheels to John's chair, pushing him down the ramp.

Carson and the medics helped them into the complex and to the top of the stairwell leading down to the entrance of the lab, but they didn't dare go any further. Ronon and Teyla descended first, each with one of Rodney's arms over their shoulder and an arm around his waist to carry him. John watched them for a moment before pulling away from the medics supporting him and starting down himself. He used the wall for support, leaning heavily against it as he slowly descended the stairs.

By the time he reached the bottom, his legs were feeling more and more like they were made of rubber. His entire body felt weak and shaky, but at the same time, it felt like there was an electric current dancing along every one of his nerve endings. Pausing to rest in the doorway, he braced himself against the jamb and looked up to find the group of adults still standing there, watching him. With a grim smile, he raised his hand in a weak attempt to wave, locking eyes with Carson in particular. John thought for a moment that Beckett might ignore Woolsey's orders and go inside with them anyway, but a burly marine whose name escaped him grabbed the doctor's sleeve and held on tight. One final nod later, John pushed away from the support of the doorway and staggered inside after his team.

Ronon and Teyla wasted no time in depositing Rodney against a dormant console and getting to work. Ronon had a backpack with the cables and other equipment while Teyla's pack carried the computer bearing the programming needed. The little guy made quick work of emptying his, tossing the cables at Teyla and making a beeline for John.

The two boys locked eyes, each staring at the other. John expected to see pity in his friend's eyes, but what he found was sheer determination and concern. Stunned by the depth of the emotions, he had to look away. Ronon responded by stepping over and sliding under John's arm, guiding it over his shoulder and slipping his own arm around John's waist. He waited patiently for a cue from John, allowing him to dictate the next move. Not a word was exchanged between them; John simply nodded and took a shaky step forward, allowing the younger boy to assist him to the main control console without further hesitation.

Once they reached their destination, John showed his gratitude by slapping Ronon's shoulder. Ronon nodded, hesitating for a moment before turning and throwing his arms around John's midsection for a hug. John swallowed hard, awkwardly patting Ronon on the back. To his relief, Ronon let go and headed straight for Teyla. "Need help?"

She smiled up at him, shaking her head. "No, I believe I have everything connected now. All that is left to do is to take the computer over to John and allow him to begin the process. John?"

He nodded. "I'm ready. Bring it over here, please," he instructed.

Teyla did as he asked, helping him to get it situated the way he wanted. She had already powered the unit up, so all John had to do was call up the program and set it to run once the interface was engaged. Once that was done, he checked the screen of the computer one final time and stepped up to the Ancient console, which immediately lit up at his touch. He nodded at her, gesturing to Rodney and Ronon. "Okay, that should do it. You'd better stay over there with the others. Just in case."

He waited for her to reach them and took a deep breath. "Okay. Everyone ready? Here goes nothing." He took another deep breath and deliberately placed his hand on the alien device, closing his eyes as he concentrated on initiating the reversal process. He cracked a smile as a low hum began to build, accompanied by a faint vibration beneath his hands.

Suddenly, the hum died and the console went dark. "No! This has to work. It has to!" He fought down his rising panic and fear of failure, dropping to the floor and crawling over to the spot on the base where the cables were connected.

"Perhaps I did not attach them correctly," offered Teyla. "Or maybe they came loose when I moved the computer."

"Yeah, yeah, that's probably it," said John. His heart was pounding harder with each passing moment as he checked over the connections. Sure enough, one had come loose and he quickly tightened it. "Found it. You're right, one came loose." After double and triple checking the others, then doing the same to the troublesome cable, he smiled over at the others. "Okay, that should do it. Let's try it again."

It took more effort than he would ever admit to pull himself upright again, but sheer stubborn determination won out and soon he was standing in front of the control unit again. After what he hoped was a reassuring nod to his team, he again placed his hand in the designated spot and initialized the unit. As before, the low hum began and he again felt the vibration as the power increased. This time there were no snafus and the hum grew louder, the vibration more pronounced.

Moments later, the pitch changed and the hum became a whine. Light filled the room, growing louder as the noise increased in both pitch and volume. John held onto the console for dear life, guiding it as best he could through the reversal. Sparks began to pop from nearby units, but he ignored them, focusing only on fixing himself and his team. Wisps of white smoke wafted around him, the pops and sparks now flying from the main console as well.

The light grew brighter, almost blinding. He heard Teyla and Ronon shouting his name, but he couldn't spare the time or energy to reassure them. It was working, he told himself; he could tell. Nerve endings all throughout his body began to tingle, progressing to a feeling akin to that of fire ants crawling over every inch of him. He concentrated harder, even as he felt his strength leeching out of him and into the unit. Just a moment longer, he told himself. They were almost there.

The shorting of electrical circuits grew more frequent as well as more pronounced, the pops growing louder as showers of sparks erupted all around them. The pitch of the whining noise increased to ear-splitting levels and the intensity of the light grew to beyond brilliant white, but still John refused to give up. It was happening, they were changing--or at least he was. Every cell in his body felt like it was on fire as skin and muscle stretched and morphed into new shapes as they raced to keep up with enlarging bones. He wanted to curl into a ball from the agony, but he forced himself to remain upright and concentrate on finishing the job.

A loud bang near the floor signaled the demise of the Earth computer, followed almost immediately by an even larger boom from within the main control unit. John suddenly found himself flying across the room in a hail storm of broken circuits and crystal shards. He hit the wall hard, sliding bonelessly to the floor amid a heap of debris. "Please, please, let it have been enough," he whispered. It was his last thought before the darkness claimed him.

~A~

Radek Zelenka paused at the door of Richard Woolsey's office, watching as the head of Atlantis shuffled through a stack of papers. He plucked one from the pile and began to read, only to moments later set it aside. Resting his elbows on the desk, he buried his head in his hands, rubbing his face tiredly. He took a deep breath and picked up the paper, again attempting to read.

Knocking tentatively, Radek waited for an invitation to enter. Richard appeared startled by the intrusion, but quickly waved him inside. "Doctor Zelenka. What can I do for you?"

"I thought you would wish to know that we have managed to bring the internal sensors back online again," he answered, walking up to the large desk.

"That's good news. Thank you for the report." Woolsey hesitated a moment before continuing. "Please don't take this the wrong way--I do appreciate the update, but you look exhausted. I am aware of all the hours you've been putting in while Doctor McKay has been...incapacitated. Surely this could have waited until after you've rested?"

Radek shrugged. "There is still much to do. I will rest...later." He threw a quick glance over his shoulder at the dormant stargate. "Has there been any word yet?"

Richard smiled ruefully, but Radek hid his irritation over the gesture and awaited an answer. "No, I'm afraid nothing yet. It's hard, isn't it? The waiting," he clarified.

"Yes," agreed the Czech. "Especially when you..." He shook his head, already regretting his choice of words and chose a different reply. "Well, for some more than others, I think."

"You have no reason to feel guilty, Doctor. You did everything you could to help. Why don't you get some rest now? I'll call you the moment we have any word."

Radek wanted to slap the patronizing smile from the administrator's face, but settled for clenching his fists at his sides. "I will rest later, thank you. I have several diagnostics running that will require my attention shortly."

Woolsey's eyes narrowed. "I can make it an order if I have to, you know. This expedition will need you in top form if...if Doctor McKay remains incapacitated for any length of time. Please, do us both a favor and _get some sleep_--for all of our sakes."

Smiling ruefully, Zelenka shook his head. "Emotions cannot be ordered, Mr. Woolsey, no matter how hard you try. You can order me to my quarters to lie down, yes, but you cannot make me sleep--or forget."

Richard looked totally perplexed. "Radek, what in heaven's name are you feeling guilty about? You did everything humanly possible to make certain that the program would work in conjunction with the interface that the colonel located. We all did our best."

"Did I? Did any of us?" Radek again shook his head. "No. No, I think not. There is only one of us who was able to look beyond their appearances and see the adults that they have always been. You yourself said that they had all of the instincts and abilities of their adult selves, and yet, not once did any one of us attempt to actively involve them in the process of finding the solution. Instead, we treated them as they appeared--as children who were not to be trusted with important task."

Richard opened his mouth as if to refute him, but Radek held up a hand to signal he was not yet finished. "No, Mr. Woolsey, I did not do all I could have. Nor did you or Major Lorne or anyone other than Carson Beckett. If I had worked _with_ Rodney instead of shutting him out of the process, he may well not have fallen into the coma so rapidly. Perhaps together we would have discovered the interface ourselves and Colonel Sheppard would not have jeopardized himself using the chair as he did--as _we_ forced him to. So if...if the worst happens, to any or all of them, I will have to live with the consequences of my actions for the rest of my life. As will each and every person that aided in the deception regarding their condition."

"Are you accusing me of incompetence in handling this matter?" Richard's hackles were definitely up, his tone growing colder with each word.

Radek shook his head. "No! Of course not, not at all. I am sorry, I did not intend for it to sound like accusation. I was merely stating my feelings, nothing more. As I said, each of us will have to reconcile our own conscience if and when the time comes. Please, my apologies for any offense."

Richard sat back in his chair, sighing heavily. "No, Radek, don't apologize. I'm the one who should be expressing my remorse here. Sometimes it's easier to avoid the mirror when you know deep down that the reflection will be anything but flattering to you. What I'm trying to say is that you're right. Aside from Doctor Beckett, we did all fail them. He tried many times to make us...to make _me_ see them for what they are--or rather for what they were, before the accident. I suppose all we can do now is pray that everything works and that they are able to cheat the Grim Reaper at least one more time."

"Well if anyone can," said Radek, shrugging. "But now I must go and see to those diagnostics I spoke of earlier. It does help somewhat to keep busy. You will let me know when there is word?"

"Of course," agreed Richard.

Radek was halfway to the door when the stargate activated. A worried glance back to the administrator found the man already out of his chair and all but running for the control room. He waited for Woolsey to precede him, but quickly followed to the console manned by Chuck. "It's Major Lorne," the technician informed them.

Fighting the urge to rip the receiver from the man's ear and demand information, Zelenka stood back and listened. Chuck's attention was focused wholly on the incoming transmission. He said nothing for what seemed like ages to Radek, at last nodding as he replied. "I'll tell them, sir. We'll expect you directly."

The gate disengaged and Chuck turned to Richard to report. "Doctor Beckett is requesting that Doctor Keller have a surgical team prepped and waiting for them; she's already been notified. He said to tell you that the reversal procedure seems to have worked and they are all alive, but unconscious. He says it's too early to tell with any of them."

"Did he give a reason for requesting the surgical team?" demanded Woolsey, taking the words right out of Radek's mouth.

Chuck's expression was grim. "There was an explosion. Colonel Sheppard took the worst of it and is in pretty bad shape. He didn't provide any further details, only that they'll need to get him straight into surgery upon their return. They're still working on stabilizing him now, but expect to be on their way momentarily."

"Very well. I want to be informed immediately of any delays." Richard turned and headed back to his office, leaving Radek with the technician.

He stood there, unsure of what to do next; then he turned and began to jog in the direction of the jumper bay. "If anyone needs me I will be in jumper bay," he called over his shoulder. When Chuck acknowledged him, Radek waved over his shoulder, never once looking back.

~A~


	6. Chapter 6

A quick note--this would be the part where Ronon uses a wee bit of 'colorful' language. I tried to get him to let me change it, but he was stubborn and insisted that I leave it as is. So if you're offended by what he says, the blame lies solely with him. *wink-wink*

* * *

John found himself floating along in a haze of awareness. The sensation was vaguely familiar to him, but he didn't seem to have the energy to ponder it further, content to simply drift along without a care in the world. The tranquility of his haven didn't last though, with a persistent buzzing invading his little oasis of nothingness. 'Damn bugs,' he thought. 'I hate bugs.'

_"See! See! I told you he's waking up--one of you better call in the VooDoo twins. And what was that about bugs anyway?"_

_"You want them, you call them. Oh yeah, that's right. You can't. Beckett threatened to restrain you for the duration if you called again and what was it Keller said? Something about your..."_

_"Hey! That's enough already--there's a woman present here for God's sake," hissed Rodney._

_"So? It's not like she doesn't know what a..."_

_"Will you stop that! Hasn't anyone ever told you that you don't say *those* words in mixed company? Seriously, I'd have thought Sheppard would have trained his favorite pet Wookie better."_

So not insects, he realized. Voices. Very, very familiar voices, one of which was goading the other in what he had to admit was a very amusing discussion. But one was missing...where was Teyla? 'Another minute,' he thought, 'then I'll ask them.'

_"...penis is," finished Ronon, his tone smug. "Or that you have one. You do have one, right?"_

_"Well, of course I...will you stop that? For the love of...Sheppard, wake up and-and *DO* something about your pet ape here!"_

_"I will go find Carson and Jennifer," said Teyla. _Ah, there she was. He could see the eye roll as clearly as if he had his eyes open and was watching the whole exchange. She had sounded as much weary and troubled as exasperated though, and that concerned him. Chair legs scraped along the floor as it was scooted away, signaling her exit. He listened to her soft footsteps fade away and wondered again if she was all right.

A sudden noise from next to his bed sent John's heart rate into overdrive. He knew that noise. The chittering continued unabated, causing him to wonder why the devil Ronon wasn't doing something about an Iratus bug in the vicinity. If the big guy was all right the whine of the blaster would have been heard immediately, certainly by now. He had to get out of here, to get them all out of here and away from the cursed thing. He tried to move, to open his eyes, raise his hand, his arm--hell, even his finger would be a good start--but not a muscle in his body obeyed his command to move.

The noise stopped as suddenly as it had begun, and almost immediately a hand lightly touched his shoulder. "John? John, you're okay now. You're in the infirmary and you're okay. Well, not okay-okay but eventually-gonna-be-okay-okay. So just, you know, relax and wait for Beckett and Keller. I'm sure Teyla will have them here any minute now. John?"

At last, his eyes obeyed his brain's command to open. He nearly screamed at the sight of Rodney McKay's face slowly coming into focus, hovering barely inches from his own. "Rodney," he said, his voice weak and raspy. "Why 'r y' in m'face?"

McKay did scream, jumping back as quickly as if he'd been stung. "What are you doing, trying to give me a heart attack on top of everything else?" He recovered immediately, shock quickly giving way to excitement. "But hey--you're awake! That's good--awake is...well, it's good. Ha! I told them you...er, well, never mind. It's not important--what's important is that you're finally conscious and back among the living!"

John caught a flash of white out of the corner of his eye and turned, finding a grinning Ronon standing there with cup in hand. "Ice?" John nodded, almost immediately regretting the action as the room tilted and spun for a moment. Surprisingly gentle, the big guy spooned a few chips into John's mouth.

He closed his eyes a moment, savoring the blessedly cool wetness as it spread over his tongue and down his throat. "More?" asked John. Ronon repeated the procedure, carefully allowing the ice to slip off the end of the spoon into his mouth. As with the first mouthful, he savored every drop. "Thanks," he said, signaling that he was finished for the time being.

Ronon replaced the cup on the nearby table and then patted John's shoulder. "Good to have you back, buddy."

"Thanks." John looked from one of them to the other, trying to remember what events let up to him being here--again. Coming up empty, he finally settled on McKay. "What happened?"

Before either of them could answer, Teyla returned with both Carson and Jennifer in tow. The Athosian was beaming as she stepped up next to the bed. "John, it is so good to see you are with us again."

Jennifer followed, a huge smile on her face. "Welcome back, Colonel. You gave us quite the scare there for awhile." Patting his arm, she looked up to the rest of his team. "If you can give us a moment, I'd like to do a quick wound check while the Colonel is awake. It won't take long, I promise."

Rodney immediately went pale and backed away. "Oh, okay. Well, I'll just, um, you know, wait over there. Way...over there." Gesturing to a far corner, he turned and made a beeline away from John's bed.

"I will make certain he does not stray far," said Teyla. She leaned down to gently touch her forehead to John's, still smiling as she pulled away. "We will return as soon as Doctor Keller allows it." She seemed reluctant to go, but at last turned and hurried to catch up with their errant scientist.

It was obvious by the look on her face that the doctor assumed the last remaining member of the team would follow suit. When he made no move to do so, John smirked, knowing what was coming next. "Ronon? If you could wait outside for a moment?" Jennifer smiled at the Satedan expectantly, waiting for him to leave.

Ronon, however, remained firmly planted next to John's bed, his arms crossed. "I'm good," he announced. "I won't get in your way or faint or nothing."

"I'm sure you won't," said Jennifer, amused. "But all the same..."

"S-stay." John didn't mind his presence, and besides, he wanted some answers--sooner rather than later; he knew that if no one else was forthcoming, Ronon would tell it like it was.

"O-o-o-oka-a-a-y. All right, if that's what you want, he can stay. BUT," she said, tossing a mask to the Satedan, "he'll need to put this on first." While Ronon did as requested, Jennifer donned a pair of gloves and prepared to do the exam.

As she was pulling back the blanket covering him, John suddenly coughed, igniting a firestorm of pain in his midsection. He did his best to ride it out, but it seemed to take ages for the pain to subside even a little. Once he was more or less in control again, he turned watery eyes to Keller. "What was that?" he demanded.

"That, Colonel, was what happens when you cough after having major surgery. I wouldn't have thought you'd have forgotten so soon." As she spoke, she checked his stomach, each poke and prod causing him to hiss with discomfort. "Well it doesn't look like you've torn any stitches. I'll have Amy get you a pillow for next time--I'm sure you remember the drill; it's only been a few weeks." She grabbed the chart from the end of the bed and began to look through it, watching him with concern out of the corner of her eye. "It's a little early, but I think we can give you a little something more for the pain. How bad is it on a scale of one to ten?"

"Five? Maybe six, tops." He waited for her to tell Amy what medication she wanted and as soon as she finished, he demanded answers. "I thought you guys fixed everything last time. What gives?"

Frowning, she studied his face as she answered. "We did fix everything last time. But someone up there somewhere seems to have a vendetta against your insides, Colonel. What's the last thing you remember?"

John reached up with a shaky hand to rub his face as he tried to recall. "I don't know, I guess gearing up for the mission. Lorne and his team finished first and headed for the gate room..." He frowned, thinking hard about the arrival, and looked up at Ronon, confused. "Why did we take Lorne's team anyway? Baker was supposed to go with us."

"Baker's team was late coming back from the trading mission, remember? It was either take Lorne's team or delay the mission." Ronon shot a worried look to the two doctors hovering on the other side of the bed.

"Oh. I don't remember that." John rubbed his forehead again, the pain increasing the more he tried to remember.

"It's okay, you had a pretty bad knock on the head there; some memory loss is to be expected. What else do you remember about the mission?" she prodded.

John tried to recall any other detail, but came up totally empty no matter how hard he tried. Finally, he gave up and shot Keller an apologetic look. "Sorry, Doc, but that's it. I remember gearing up and giving the order to head for the gate room. Don't remember getting there or going through though."

"That's okay," she assured him. "What about before that? Do you remember what you did before gearing up for the mission?"

He thought carefully for a moment, but came up empty again. "Um, the usual? Morning run, paperwork, breakfast with the team, then gearing up...I think."

"No guessing," she ordered. But the smile on her face took the sting out of her words and told him that she wasn't upset with him. "Tell me what you really, actually remember before gearing up."

He sighed, pondering the question further. "Dinner with the team--meatloaf, which McKay inhaled--and I do mean that literally--before running off to some experiment or other that he had going. Then I did some paperwork, read for awhile, and went to bed. Then...gearing up." He frowned, realizing that something was off with that scenario. "That's not right, is it?" he asked, looking up at Ronon with a confused expression.

"Meatloaf night was three days before the mission," said Ronon, shrugging. "Sorry."

"What?" John couldn't believe his ears. He'd had concussions before, so losing bits of time was nothing new. But that was hours, never anything as significant as _days_ before.

Before he could question it further, Keller accepted the medication she'd requested from Amy and injected it into his IV, smiling sympathetically. "It's okay, really. Nothing to worry about, I promise. We expected there to be some gaps in your more recent memory, given the combination of your head injury and the backlash from the overload in the console. Give it a little time; most of it will probably come back to you eventually."

"So will someone please tell me what happened?" he demanded. The medication was quickly taking effect, but he wasn't about to give in to sleep without knowing how he'd ended up having major surgery again so soon after being caught in the rubble from Michael's lab and then being stabbed by the baby hive tentacle. "How did I end up in here _again_?"

Jennifer got a deer in the headlights look and turned to Carson, who'd been strangely quiet ever since they'd arrived. "Ah, I think Doctor Beckett can probably explain it a lot better than I can, so I'll just leave you all to sort things out now." Already halfway across the room, she had to call over her shoulder in order to be heard. "I'll be in my office if you need me. Oh, and Rodney? You've got ten minutes. If you're not back in your bed after that..."

John was becoming more annoyed by the moment. "So?" he demanded, looking from Ronon to Beckett and back again. "Is someone going to tell me what happened or not?"

"Aye, well...there was an explosion in the lab on the planet, the one ye were gearing up to visit, ye see. Ye were...operating an Ancient console that was interfaced with one of the Earth computers. There was an overload of some sort--Radek can likely tell ye more specifically what happened if ye want to know. Anyhow, ye were thrown across the room from the force of the explosion and suffered a rather nasty concussion, along with internal injuries. We almost lost ye on the planet several times and Jennifer took ye straight to surgery once we got back to Atlantis." Even in his drugged state, John could tell that there was something decidedly off about the doctor. He was about to ask what was up when Ronon decided to chime in.

"You fixed us all though. Everybody's back to normal, good as new. Except for what happened to you in the explosion. You're back to being an adult though. We all are."

"That, my friend, is a matter of opinion," said Rodney. He and Teyla had seen Jennifer leave and took it as a cue to rejoin the two men already standing by John's bed. "You're back to your usual caveman size physically, but the mental progression seems to have stopped at age twelve...oh, wait, never mind. That is normal for you. So yes, I suppose everyone is back to their normal adult selves."

John's head was swimming and he decided that he definitely wasn't hearing things right. Confused, he looked at each of them, finally settling on Carson for answers. "What?"

Beckett looked down to the floor. "The lab was constructed to explore methods to help achieve ascension."

John groaned, leaning further back into his pillow. "I'm not going to like this, am I?"

Finally, the ghost of a smile appeared on the doctor's face. "Probably not. Shall I continue?"

"Yeah, might as well have all the gory details." John made a face, but signaled for Carson to go on with the story.

It was Rodney who again butted in to take up the explanation though. "As Carson was saying, the complex was intended to experiment with and explore the means to ascension. This particular experiment was intended to take the prospective candidate to a, well, a simpler time in their life, as it were. They had hoped that by returning to a more...childlike state that it would be easier for the candidate to 'release their burden' and ascend."

John buried his head in his hands, ignoring the pain caused by the movement. "Please tell me this isn't going where I think it's going," he pleaded.

"Well, if where you think this is going is a pint-sized you running amok and generally causing havoc and mayhem all over the city, then sorry, no can do." Rodney rocked on his heels, a smug look on his face. "Though there is one positive aspect. Anyone who previously believed that that hair of yours is an artificial look achieved solely through the use of massive amounts of hair gel? Well, they've now seen the light and have been converted."

Teyla took mercy on him and continued the story, deliberately snubbing her scientist teammate. "We departed on schedule, leaving Major Lorne and his team to guard the gate. Mr. Woolsey had insisted we be accompanied by a backup team because of the recent cullings in that section of the galaxy. The major attempted to report back that there had been a problem and that we would be returning directly, but the machine that caused the regression process produced an electromagnetic field which interfered with the transmission. He also requested a medical team to be standing by, though unfortunately not all of the information made it through."

Carson again took up the tale. "We had no way of knowing precisely what had happened, ye see, so Mr. Woolsey... Well, I'm afraid he may have overreacted a wee bit. He ordered full hazmat gear, so when the major's team showed up with three wee lads and a wee lass in tow, well, things got...complicated."

"We freaked," said John, knowing with dead certainty that he was right--and what was coming next. "I take it our memories were affected then?"

Carson nodded. "Aye. Ye each retained your instinctive knowledge and abilities, but most of your adult memories were lost to ye."

"So we went back to reverse the process. That's when the explosion occurred?"

"Aye, well, eventually. It took a bit to figure out how to reverse the process."

John's eyes narrowed. "How long?"

Beckett's eyes went wide as he realized what he'd said. "Oh, well, not that long, really. I can promise ye that everyone worked as quickly as humanly possible to resolve the situation."

"How. Long?" His patience was wearing thin, a combination of his injuries and the effort of fighting the drowsiness from the medication.

"A couple of days," answered Carson reluctantly.

Rodney snorted. "Oh please, last time I checked, a couple meant two. I was in the coma for longer than that, for Pete's sake."

"Rodney," complained Carson. "You're not helping here."

Glaring at the two, John turned his attention to Ronon, raising an eyebrow in silent question. The Satedan didn't let him down. "Five days from the start of the mission until we went back to get fixed, another four since then.

John was floored by the answer. "So you're telling me I've lost almost two weeks?"

"Pretty much," agreed the Satedan.

"Perhaps it would be best if we leave John to rest for awhile now. We have given him a lot to take in already; we do not wish to over-tire him, after all." Teyla tried to smile reassuringly, but John could tell she was worried. So while on one hand John was irritated at having the explanation cut short, he was also touched by her concern and couldn't bring himself to hold it against her.

"Teyla's right," agreed Carson. "Ye need your rest. We'll be here when ye wake up to answer any further questions ye might have. So stop fighting and let yourself sleep for awhile."

He wanted to argue, but knew he'd reached his limit of endurance. Still, that didn't mean he had to concede gracefully. "Fine. But I want answers as soon as I wake up." The sternness of the warning was ruined by a jaw-popping yawn, but to his relief, all four of his visitors nodded and said their goodbyes.

As he was about to drift off, Teyla's distant voice stopped him cold. "Carson, are you certain that he is going to be all right? It is most unlike John to not notice that Rodney was wearing scrubs and inquire as to the nature of his injuries. He did not even react to Rodney's mention of being in a coma."

Rodney had also been injured? And what was that about a coma? How the heck had he missed all that? John tried to pull himself out of the drug-haze that was tugging him toward sleep, but all he could manage was a faint groan. Were Ronon and Teyla both all right? He hadn't noticed anything amiss with them, but then he hadn't noticed Rodney's scrubs either. Teyla had only mentioned Rodney being injured though, so that was a good sign, he told himself. Still, he had to know before he could allow himself to rest, so John fought even harder against the darkness that was trying so very hard to overtake him.

"Easy there, John. Ye need to stop fighting it and allow yourself to rest. Your body's been through a significant trauma and needs time to heal--and a lot of sleep."

John stubbornly managed to pry his eyes open, squinting up at Carson, who had suddenly reappeared at his bedside. "R'ney?" he asked, badly slurring the name.

Beckett sighed. "So ye overheard Teyla, did ye? Well, ye can relax; Rodney's well on the mend now and should be out of here in a few days time--provided he behaves himself. And before ye ask, Ronon and Teyla are both fine as well. They were both affected significantly less by the entire ordeal. There then, now we've got all that out of the way, I highly recommend ye give in and allow yourself the rest ye need if ye ever want to be well enough to join them."

Though he really wanted to question the doctor further, John found he was unable to keep his eyes open any longer and reluctantly allowed himself to succumb to the lure of drug-induced sleep.

~A~

When John next awoke, the crowd around his bed was much sparser. Teyla was absent, as was Rodney. Ronon, however, was sitting in a chair next to his bed, his legs crossed and his feet propped up on the mattress. The Satedan appeared to be dozing, his chin resting comfortably on his chest and his arms also crossed. John was about to call out to him when a sudden tickle in his throat caused him to cough.

Ronon was instantly on his feet and hovering over him. "Easy."

He concentrated on controlling his breathing and riding out the pain. "'M okay," he said at last, relaxing back into the pillows. "'M okay."

"You want me to get Keller or Beckett?"

Glaring, he quickly put an end to that idea. "No, I do not want you to get anyone. Just...sit back down while I try to remember what we did that landed me in here this time." John rubbed his forehead, trying his best to ignore the pain while he concentrated on remembering. Vague flashes of disjointed images and conversations drifted through his mind, but he couldn't make sense of any of them. "I...got nothing. Well, nothing aside from one of the craziest dreams I can ever remember having."

"Yeah?"

John nodded, careful to avoid moving too quickly and setting the room to spinning out of control. "Oh yeah. I dreamed that you guys told me the we activated some wacky Ancient device and all got turned into kids on our last mission--and that I ended up in here because I nearly got fried by another one of the Ancients' toys changing us back."

One look at the mischievous grin on Ronon's face and John got a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach. "Crap. It wasn't a dream, was it?"

Ronon shook his head. "Sorry, buddy. It's all true. You still don't remember any of it?"

"No, I don't. Not sure if that's a bad thing or not yet. Did we really...how was it Rodney put it? 'Cause chaos and mayhem all over the city' while we were...affected?"

The Satedan's grin grew even larger, which John didn't find reassuring in the least. "We escaped from the gate room right away when we saw the hazmat gear. McKay rigged the internal sensors and they couldn't find us until you went to get Beckett. McKay got sick. Otherwise they'd never have caught us. You and me set up booby traps and stuff all over the place."

John couldn't help but groan. "I am so dead when I get out of here. I'll be lucky if I see the outside of my office at all for the next ten years--at least." Feeling slightly sick over the prospect, he nonetheless encouraged Ronon to continue. "Give it to me straight. All of it. What else did we do that I should be regretting?"

Still grinning, Ronon resumed his former position in the chair, tilting it back on the rear legs and propping his feet back on the mattress. He was obviously enjoying reliving the memories, judging by the gleam in his eyes. "Well, there was the canon ball things off the pier. You made us tie rope around our waist so if anything happened to one of us the other two could pull them up. Oh, and we also used the nets from the jumper for a ladder to climb back up."

Against his better judgment, a smile crept across John's features. "Cool. Sounds harmless enough, especially since we took precautions. I'm surprised Beckett okayed it though."

Ronon's grin turned sheepish. "He, ah, didn't, not exactly. In fact he was pretty pissed when he found out."

The smile disappeared. "So Beckett and Woolsey. Anyone else I'm gonna have to kiss up to big time over this?"

"No. Well, maybe. Zelenka was pretty ticked off when we lined up a couple of jumpers and used 'em to slide down. Marched us all to Woolsey's office and everything. He was mad enough he was leaving words out when he talked and rambling on in Czech the whole way."

"Great. Anyone else?" he asked, his frustration growing.

"Not really. We stunned a few people while we were on the run. And Lorne. We gave him and his guys the slip a couple of times when he was supposed to be watching us. Woolsey was pretty pissed about that and ripped him a new one. And then there were the guys on the security team I stunned while you were doing your thing in the chair. That's about it."

"Okay, add Lorne to the list then, but you can make your own stun-related apologies, big guy. Hey, wait a minute, what was that about the chair?"

"We snuck in one night because you said we needed some interface thing to make McKay's program work. Said you couldn't explain how you knew but you were sure it was there."

"What program?" John's frustration at being unable to remember even the most basic of details about things he'd apparently said and done was rapidly mounting. "Why didn't Rodney do it himself?"

"He was unconscious. In a coma, they said. He finished the program, but it needed that interface thing to work. The scientists said it wouldn't work and wouldn't help, so you had to do it without them."

"So Rodney told us where to find it and we did the grunt work. Figures."

Ronon shook his head. "Nah, he finished the program, but that was as far as he got. Without the interface it was useless--you agreed with the scientists on that."

John's head was spinning now, not from the medication or his injury but the sheer magnitude of what was being said. "Well, that doesn't make any sense. I barely understand a tenth of what they're talking about--no way would I have a clue if one his programs needed anything more, let alone where to look for it. You sure you got that right?"

"I'm not the one in the one in the bed who almost got his brain fried. You asked, I told you." Ronon was definitely not looking happy about John questioning the accuracy of his facts.

"Sorry, I wasn't...I didn't mean to...I'm just trying to make some sense of everything, that's all." He scrunched his eyes tight, trying to alleviate the growing headache. "Sorry."

"You should rest some more. McKay's asleep now, but he'll probably wake up and start pestering you for answers any time now."

"I don't _have_ any answers," complained John. "Believe me, I wish I did."

"He's going nuts trying to figure out how you knew where to find that interface thing. Said it was in some kinda abandoned graveyard, whatever that means."

John sighed wearily. "What it means is that he's not going to give me a moment's peace until he gets an answer, which I don't have and therefore can't give him. So basically, it means I'm pretty much totally screwed."

"You could always get Beckett to drug him again. Or you." Ronon was far too amused for John's liking, but he didn't really have the energy to put him in his place at the moment.

"Don't tempt me," he answered, his eyes already closing.

It felt like only moments had passed when he next opened them, but to his surprise Ronon was nowhere in sight and Rodney had taken his place in the chair next to John's bed. He thought about feigning sleep to avoid the conversation he really didn't feel like having but knew was inevitable. He frowned, realizing that the scientist wasn't pecking away on his computer as usual. Doing a quick visual scan of the immediate area, he was even more surprised to find that there wasn't a laptop or data pad in sight. And what was McKay doing in scrubs and a bathrobe instead of a uniform anyway? "Hi, Rodney. You all right?"

"So. Decided to grace us all with your consciousness again at long last have you?" His tone was clipped and his arms were folded petulantly across his chest--neither a good sign if past experience was any indication.

"I...guess I'll have to take your word for that. How long have I been out anyway?" John shifted in the bed, immediately wishing he hadn't as nerve endings awoke to remind him of each and every one of his injuries.

"Are you...I mean, do you want me to get Carson or Jennifer in here?" The scientist's huff thawed, at least a little, and there was genuine concern in his voice.

"Nah, just...gimme a minute," said John through clenched teeth. It took a few moments, but he managed to ride out the pain, sagging back into the mattress once it had mostly subsided.

Rodney seemed to relax as John's pain eased. "At least it wasn't a nuke this time. I suppose that's progress, in a rather warped and twisted sort of way. Though honestly, you really have to work on this need of yours to blow yourself up every other week--it's almost as scary as that thing with ascended women you have going."

John bristled at the implications. "I was not _trying_ to blow myself up, Rodney. I was trying to save your--our--lives, in case you've forgotten."

"So you remember now?" Rodney leaned forward in the chair, an eager gleam in his eyes. "That's great! Well? Go ahead--spill it. Tell me how in the name of all that is Ancient you knew where to find that interface." He sat back in the chair, practically beaming as he awaited John's answer.

Sighing, John pinched the bridge of his nose. "I can't. Sorry, but I still don't remember a thing."

"But you just said..."

"I know what I just said, Rodney--I'm not an idiot."

Rodney raised both eyebrows so high they nearly reached his hairline. "No? Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but blowing one's self up is not exactly a sign of keen intelligence."

"I did not intentionally blow myself up and you know it!"

"Oh, do I? And how would you know what your intentions were if you can't remember anything? Hmm?"

"McKay," said John, grounding out the name through clenched teeth. "I am _**not**_ having this conversation with you."

"Fine. Then let's have this one instead. I have a theory about your amazing feat of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack--in other words, finding the one teeny, tiny little section of code we needed by navigating your way through an utterly _massive_ database." Rodney settled back in the chair, a smug look returning to his features.

"I already told you, I can't remember how I found it or how I knew where to look."

"Yes, well, before we left to go back and initiate the reversal, you apparently told The Caveman that it felt like there was an actual physical presence in there with you. Furthermore, you told him that said presence knew what you were thinking before you could even ask it. It also showed you not only where to find the code, but how to download it to the computer--or so you said. Sound familiar at all, Lieutenant Colonel Kirk?"

Between the drugs in his system and the ever-present headache, John wasn't in the mood for Star Trek jokes, especially ones at his expense. "Rodney, what the hell are you talking about?"

Rolling his eyes, Rodney couldn't resist baiting him just that little bit more. "I'm beginning to believe you really can't help it. Maybe. Though what ascended women seem to find so utterly fascinating and attractive about a messy-haired flyboy, I have no idea. But then one can't argue with fact, and the fact is, my friend, that it has happened far too often to be mere coincidence. First Chaya, then that woman from the cloister...what was her name again?" He waved, dismissing the name as trivial and plowed on. "No matter really, the important part is that she fell for you just like Chaya. So that begs the question--who exactly was it in there helping you?"

John stared at him, not quite believing what he was hearing. When he didn't answer, Rodney tried prodding him. "So. Any thoughts? Chaya's probably not a viable candidate, but maybe that other woman, Teer was it? Or who knows, maybe someone you haven't actually even met yet. I mean, who knows how many of them have been floating around here, watching and lusting after you--another trophy for the case, eh?"

At first he had no idea how to respond to such wild allegations, but then he found an explanation which finally made sense to him. "We're not actually having this conversation, are we? I'm dreaming the whole thing. Or is it just the drugs? Or both, maybe. Yeah, both works. Definitely both."

"Oh, ha ha, very funny. Come on, it makes perfect sense and you know it. The city is NOT a sentient being! There is no way it could sense what you're thinking or know where to guide you to find that code without very specific parameters, none of which you would have been able to provide. Not that you don't have a fairly impressive grasp on certain areas of science, I suppose--for a _flyboy_. No, you definitely had to have had outside help, and if it wasn't Zelenka, then it had to be someone a whole lot smarter than, well, anyone who's not me. And who else besides an ascended being could get _inside_ the city's mainframe like that?"

John didn't answer him, content to lay there and stare up at the ceiling. "Well?" demanded Rodney. "What do you have to say to that?"

"Nothing," said John matter-of-factly, his gaze never wavering. "I'm just going to lay here and wait for this dream or hallucination or whatever it is to finally be over." Convinced that the whole thing was a figment of his apparently very-overactive imagination, he was content to simply float along in the haze of the apparently _really_ good drugs they were giving him.

Rodney snorted. "Oh, please. Are you really going to tell me that out of all of the infinite possibilities available to the human mind, you would pick me to appear in your dreams or hallucinations over a totally hot woman? Not that I'm not flattered, mind you, but seriously...I'm beginning to worry about you. There is apparently a very distinct lack of hot women in your dreams, my friend. I mean, really, you can't possibly believe you'd be dreaming about _me_. Because, come on, just how often do you do that? No, wait, never mind, I do _**not**_ want to know the answer to that."

John ignored his last statement and answered anyway. "No, I do not make a habit of dreaming about you--but apparently I'm making an exception this time. Probably because for some reason, I feel the need to torture myself, though I have no idea why that is."

"Oh, for the love of...you are _**not**_ dreaming. I'm real. As real as you are, although apparently nowhere near as high." He snapped his fingers, pointing toward Keller's office. "I should have Jennifer run another scan on you. Apparently there is some serious brain damage that they missed on the last one."

"No. You're not. Not real, that is," insisted John, still refusing to look at the scientist.

"I am so! Now knock it off already, will you?"

John was not at all convinced. "Nope, not real. If you were real, you'd be in normal clothes instead of scrubs and a ratty bathrobe. But the dead giveaway is the complete lack of a computer anywhere in sight. Because you would never be without one if you were conscious and stuck in the infirmary."

Rodney didn't answer him, prompting John to finally sneak a glance over. To his surprise, the scientist was _pouting_. "Rodney?" John drew out the name, goading him to answer.

"They took it away from me, all right? There, are you happy now?" snapped McKay. "So can we just stop all this dream/hallucination nonsense already?"

"Aye, that we did. And apparently ye aren't very interested in getting it back or ye would have stayed in bed like ye were told."

Rodney jumped at the sudden appearance of Carson behind him, prompting John to make a noise that sounded even to his own ears suspiciously like an honest-to-God giggle. McKay frowned, immediately turning to the doctor. "_**What**_ have you got him on anyway? Because he's acting even stranger than normal--even for him. Seriously, I think you ought to scan his brain again. Apparently you missed some pretty significant damage the last time."

Carson did not look amused. "I'll give ye to the count of three to head back to your own bed, Rodney. Then I'm calling Jennifer--and don't think she wasn't serious about those restraints," he warned. "Besides, the colonel should be resting, not arguing with likes of you."

"Fine," huffed the scientist. "I'm going." He stood, looking down at John with concern. "I'll be over there if you feel up to talking later. So, um, hurry up and get better, okay?" Before Sheppard could answer, he whirled and stomped off to the other side of the curtain.

John frowned, suddenly not all certain if he was dreaming or if it had all been real. "Did Keller really...?"

"Oh, aye," answered Carson. "The bloody fool refuses to stay put and rest. He could have been out of here a lot sooner if he'd just stay in bed and do as he's told. Truth be told, I'm not altogether certain he really wants to get out just yet. Ye gave him quite the scare this time, ye know."

So. Maybe not a dream then. He should probably find out for certain, he decided. "You mean I'm really not dreaming all this?"

Chuckling, Beckett shook his head. "No, I'm afraid not."

"Huh. That's...really kind of disturbing," said John. "Wow, that must have been one heck of a concussion. Never had one this bad before. At least, not that I remember." His frown deepened.

Carson's expression became more serious. "It was a fairly significant blow, yes, but we believe that the primary cause of the memory loss is the overload of the Ancient device. Ye took quite a bit of backlash before it blew, from what we've been able to determine. It's a bit like being struck by lightning, I'm afraid. There's really no way to tell what or how much--if any--of your short-term memory will return."

"Oh." John wasn't going to dwell on the prognosis, especially when it finally sank in that Rodney had apparently suffered some sort of significant injury himself. He thought he should probably already know the how and why, but for the life of him he couldn't find the answer. "What's Rodney in here for anyway? Did he get caught in the explosion, too?"

Carson appeared startled for a moment by the question, but answered him without hesitation. "I'll not lie to ye, John. It was a very close thing for Rodney, getting the process reversed in time. He was well into the early stages of multiple organ failure by the time we arrived at the lab. He's coming along quite nicely now, mind ye. But as close to the end as he was, compounded by the stress on his body of the reversal itself, well, it takes the body awhile to recover, no matter how fit one might have been to start with--and Rodney's not exactly the poster boy for physical fitness, ye know."

"I heard that," came the snippy reply from the next bed. "I am right here, you know."

Carson opened his mouth to reply, but John beat him to the punch. "Yes, Rodney, we know. And I'm sure you'll keep reminding us, so it's not likely we're going to ever forget it."

McKay snorted. "Oh really? Because last time I checked, you were the one with the hole in your memory big enough to fly a hive ship through. I'd ask if I was wrong, but this is me we're talking about so, you know, never wrong," he said smugly.

John's eyebrow rose while Beckett appeared barely able to contain his laughter. "Rodney?"

"What?"

"I think you may have a few memory issues of your own. I'm only missing the past two weeks."

"Yeah, so?"

"Does the word 'Geldar' ring any bells?"

A long silence filled the air, followed by a somewhat softer and subdued reply. "Oh. Right. That was not totally my fault though, you know. If you hadn't..."

"All right, that's enough now--both of you." Carson's stern look told John that the doctor definitely meant business and he wisely let it drop.

Rodney, however, didn't have the benefit of the visual and plowed right on ahead. "Oh come on, he started it. I was simply attempting to point out..."

Beckett peeked around the curtain and there was no doubt in John's mind that he was turning his patented death-glare on the scientist. "And I'm finishing it, Rodney. Now shut it--or would you prefer I call Jennifer in and tell her how you're harassing her barely-off-the-critical-list surgical patient?"

"I...am going to take a nap now." Rodney had started to argue, but apparently thought better of it. The silence didn't last though, and Carson had barely returned to John's beside when Rodney piped up again. "John?"

"Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say...good night. And thanks. For, you know, what you did and all."

"You're welcome, Rodney. Even though I really can't remember what exactly I did to save you this time."

"What are you talking about?"

"I thought you were thanking me for saving your life. Again, I might add. Not that I'm counting or anything," said John.

"What? No! Why would I be thanking you for something you don't even remember? I was referring to the not dying on us thing."

"Oh. Well, you're welcome for that, too."

Rodney mumbled a non-answer and finally settled back into silence, allowing John to direct his full attention to Carson once more. "So, I know you probably already told me this before, but...Ronon and Teyla? They are okay, right? They made it through everything okay?"

Beckett patted his shoulder reassuringly. "In addition to your injuries, you're on some pretty strong medication there, John; no one expects ye to retain everything you're told right now. And aye, Ronon and Teyla were kept a day or so for observation, but they both came through it all with flying colors. It helped that neither of them were as bad off as you or Rodney when the reversal process was initiated. They each had a few minor injuries from the explosion, mostly scratches and abrasions, but the force of the blast was focused almost entirely in your direction; the other three were on the opposite side of the console and escaped relatively unscathed."

John relaxed at the news, suddenly feeling tremendously weary and worn out. "Not that I'm complaining at all, but why? How come it affected me and Rodney so much more than them?"

"Well, we're not entirely certain, but we think it was in part due to the ATA gene. Add in the fact that Rodney pushed himself well past the point of exhaustion to finish writing the program ye needed. Using the chair is what did you in--ye know how much operating that takes out of a normal, healthy adult; I'm certain ye can imagine how much worse it would be for a child who wasn't one hundred percent to start with," explained the doctor. "While neither Ronon or Teyla were pushed beyond their limits, make no mistake about it--they were beginning to experience the effects of the de-aging process. They wouldn't have lasted more than another few days, perhaps a week at best."

John nodded, but was interrupted before he could even begin to form a reply. "John?"

"What now, Rodney?"

"I, um, just wanted to point out that you owe me one."

John rolled his eyes, even though the scientist couldn't see him. "Yes, Rodney. Thank you for your part in saving us all. I wouldn't have been able to do it without you. There--we okay now?"

"Yes, well, that was quite nice and you're quite welcome and all, but...that's not what I meant."

"Rodney," warned John.

"I was actually referring to the fact that you blew up my computer. Well, one of them anyway. Thank God Zelenka had the sense not to send my best one with us."

"Rodney!" This time it was Carson who called the scientist's name and this time it had the desired affect.

"All right, all right. Sleeping now," he grumbled.

John looked at Carson, his eyes pleading for the right answer. "How much longer is he going to be in here?"

Beckett's answering look was far more apologetic than John wanted to see. "Another two or three days at least, I'm afraid."

John was almost able to suppress a whimper, but not quite. "Drugs," he whispered. "I need drugs. A _lot_ of drugs."

Carson chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure there's going to be plenty of those in your near future. Try to get some rest now, will ye? I'll send Amy in with your next dose--it is time for it." With a sympathetic pat to John's arm, he turned and headed off.

John settled back, trying to do as asked and unable to keep himself from thinking what a long three days it was going to be. Unbidden, Beckett's words came back to him. _"I'll not lie to ye, John. It was a very close thing for Rodney, getting the process reversed in time. He was well into the early stages of multiple organ failure by the time we arrived at the lab."_ He tried to picture a world without the arrogant and demanding scientist in it and found he didn't like at all what he saw. Suddenly, the next three days didn't seem nearly as daunting. Rodney was here and well on the way to being as good as new. Ronon and Teyla were already back to normal health. No, life really wasn't so bad, he thought. Besides, winding McKay up was always good for a few laughs.

Nurse Amy suddenly appeared through the curtain to administer the shot he was due. Smiling up at her while she worked, he watched silently as she injected the drug into his IV port, disposed of the used syringe, and promptly headed back off to parts unknown. Drifting off into the haze of drug-induced sleep, John had one last piece of business before succumbing. "Rodney?"

"Trying to sleep here," grumbled a drowsy-sounding McKay. "Stop trying to get me in trouble."

"Okay. I just wanted to say that I'm glad you're all right."

"Oh. Well, um, thanks. Same here. I mean, I'm glad you're okay, too. Well, obviously not okay-okay, but getting-there-okay."

"Thanks, Rodney. Night."

John was well on his way to drifting off when Rodney's voice sounded again. "John? You asleep yet?"

He purposely didn't answer, prompting McKay to try again. "John? John, are you there? Oh, this is just great! You wake me up and now I can't get back to sleep," he grumbled. "I am so going to get you for this."

'Yeah,' he thought. 'This wasn't going to be so bad at all.' With a smile on his face, John allowed sleep to overtake him.

~A~

* * *

**Detailed Prompts:** Rodney and/or Shep (throw in other team members if you want) as a kid on Atlantis, Rodney getting at least moderately sick or injured (panic attack, anaphylactic shock, broken leg, etc.), Shep figuring out how to save the day instead of Rodney.

**Notes:** First and foremost, I have to say a HUGE 'Thank you!!!' to Linzi. Not only have you been beyond patient and understanding about all the delays, you gave me the most awesome plot bunny a writer could ever wish for to play with--you totally _**ROCK**_, my dear! This is the most fun I have _ever_ had writing a story, EVER. (Anything this much fun should really not be legal...er, oh, wait, that's right. It's fanfic, which means it's not, is it? *grins*) Seriously though, Linzi, I can only hope and pray that you enjoy reading this even a fraction as much as I enjoyed writing it, and that you find my efforts to be worth the VERY long wait. Kid!fic isn't something I would have ever dreamt of attempting without a prompt and I feel very lucky to have been entrusted with yours. I'm just sorry that I wasn't able to manage it in a more timely manner for you. :(

Secondly: Another huge 'Thank you!!!' to Karri, Terri, and yllek for all of the encouragement and for keeping me going during the very long writing process (and especially for the latter's Google prowess when I was flailing like mad for a translation!); to Sera for putting the ficathon together in the first place and for beta reading The Epic for me; and last, but very certainly not least, to Cadee and susnn for answering my plea and stepping in on very short notice to beta read. You called me on the weak spots and made me look for believable solutions instead of allowing me to be lazy and gloss over them--and the story is much better and much tighter for your efforts. Somehow, a simple "thank you" seems sorely inadequate. You are all truly **awesome** and I feel very blessed and honored to have been able to work with each and every one of you.

Thirdly: If you've managed to read all the way through to the end of the story, congratulations and know that it's much appreciated. Whether you choose to comment or not, I humbly thank you and hope you leave here with a smile on your face and the feeling that the time it took to read my not-so-little romp was time well spent. :) As for me, I'm now going to head off in search of the biggest and best margarita I can find to celebrate _finally_ being able to write these last two little words:

**The End**


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